SONG
by letters
Summary: Shizuo struggles with telling Izaya how he feels, but that becomes the least of his problems, as the informant gains possession of a very cursed violin, and they begin to learn of a tragic romance, decades old.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Wow, this took a long time, huh? I had a lot of trouble finding something I thought would be interesting to write about, but I finally settled on something. This is going to be the final mystery in this funny, little trilogy. I was reading it over, and it seems a little somber, and perhaps a bit more cerebral than the other two stories, but I hope you enjoy it. If you haven't read FOXY and SHADOW first, I'd advise doing so before reading this story, otherwise some things may not make sense. Also, the rating went up! Woot-woot!**

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><p><em>Forgive me.<em>

_I cannot hope that you will still love me._

_With time, you will only forget me._

_So, forgive me, now, for what I am about to do._

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><p>Shizuo stood smoking outside of the same department store he had so many months ago in Shinjuku, but so many things had changed. He stood tall, bags in hand, calmly staring down anyone who chose to meet his eye. They always quickly looked away, and he smiled at how much it didn't unnerve him. His cell phone rang, and he shuffled the new purchases to reach the device in his back pocket.<p>

"Hey," he breathed out a stream of smoke.

"How did we do?" his favorite voice chirped over the phone.

"Uh...well, I got blue jeans, like you said," Shizuo furrowed his brow in thought. "And I tried to stick to blue."

"Excellent!" Izaya chuckled, his lilting voice making Shizuo's heart beat just a bit faster. "I'm walking that way, now. Ja-ne~!"

Shizuo snapped his phone shut, and shuffled his feet, nervously. Not much headway had been made since their last little adventure. Well, to be fair, Izaya did seem to be finding reasons to see him more often, but apart from the time he woke up from his month long coma, things had by in large remained the same. They were friends. They were good friends.

Shizuo ground his teeth against the cigarette butt in his mouth.

They were such god damn, good, freakin' friends and that was the problem! He tossed the smoke on the ground, and put it out with his shoe, sighing in frustration. It was hard enough to tell anyone those three words, let alone your best pal. They'd been through so much together. They trusted each other, implicitly. How could he risk hamming all of it up? And oh, he would. It was a rare occasion when Shizuo didn't make a social situation that much worse. Tonight, they were supposed to meet for dinner at Shinra and Celty's home, and the opportunity weighed heavily on his mind. It swung dramatically back and forth from bending down on one knee and professing his undying love like a Hollywood drama, to almost acting indifferent towards the unsuspecting man. And then, there was what his feelings actually meant to consider. When Shizuo thought that he loved Izaya, what exactly did that mean? He thought he'd known what romantic love was with Hisa, but had since come to discover that few things could be farther from it. The thought of actually working up the nerve to dare something like a kiss sent such a chill through his body, he couldn't help but feel he might spontaneously combust if he ever went through with it. Shizuo doubted he'd be more afraid of facing his own death! But then again, Izaya had said that he loved him, even though he had thought that Shizuo was unconscious and dying at the time. Could he really count that? People say all sorts of crazy stuff when they think someone's about to die, right? The blonde man looked over toward a small alley way, where he'd first seen those shining, little red eyes almost a year ago, and sighed, wistfully.

"Alright! Let's have a looksy!" Shizuo jumped at the voice that was suddenly behind him, as slender hands quickly yanked the bags away. He turned to blink at Izaya quickly rummaging through everything he'd spent the afternoon shopping for, letting each perused bag fall to the pavement with a flop. He'd worn the same bar tending uniform for the past two years, almost every day, rarely bothering to change out of what he considered to be his work attire. It was familiar, and comfortable, and he knew it had to match, because they came in sets. Izaya, however, had different ideas. He had decided it was his duty as a friend to push Shizuo beyond his comfort zones, and Shizuo could hardly protest. Any more time Izaya took away from his work as an informant to spend with him, made him unbelievably happy. On top of it, Izaya always looked good. He certainly wasn't challenged in the wardrobe department. True, he seemed to prefer black, but the color suited him, and he always presented with a confident and sharp appearance. Shizuo supposed if he were going to let anyone dress him, he'd mind Izaya least of all. That was, until Izaya threw the last bag on the ground and glared at Shizuo with narrow eyes, placing his hands on his hips.

"...What?"

"Shizu-chan, not to be a nag, but did you even look at this stuff before you bought it?"

"...What?"

Izaya sighed, and quickly gathered up the bags shoving them into his hands. "Let's try this again. When I said blue, I meant blue. Not turquoise. Not sea-green. BLUE!"

"It all looks the same to me..."

"Well, at least you got blue jeans, though I would have preferred a darker shade."

"You're such a girl!" Shizuo grinned, ruffling his hair as they started to walk. It could have been his imagination, but a light pink seemed to dust Izaya's cheeks for a moment.

"If by girl, you mean someone not color blind who can dress himself, then yes. I suppose I am," Izaya sniffed, taking a rectangular, hard case in hand. It had been lying inconspicuously to the side since the raven haired man's unannounced arrival.

"What's that?" Shizuo asked, curiously eyeing the foreign looking object.

"Ah, my latest acquisition! Wait until you see it! It's quite marvelous!"

"Is it an instrument?"

"Indeed! A violin! A fairly old one, I'm told. I received it today, free of charge, mind you! One just never knows what they'll find in internet ads!"

"Why would they give a violin away for free?" Shizuo wondered. He didn't know much about musical instruments, but he knew enough to know that they were expensive.

"This is a special violin. It's been getting passed around for free for the last fifty years! All I had to do to get it, was promise to pass it on when the time was right. How romantic of a notion is that, eh?" Izaya chuckled. Shizuo wrinkled his eyebrows and stared at the case. Something about it gave him the oddest feeling, but he couldn't place his finger on it.

"Well, it's cool that you wanna learn how to play, I guess. Didn't know you were the musical sort."

"Oh, it's not that, Shizu-chan. They say it's cursed, that it won't play for anyone."

Shizuo was face palming before he even finished his sentence. "Do you EVER learn?" he practically roared. "What the hell, Izaya? It's like you're a magnet for supernatural bull shit! Need I remind you what we went through the last time you stuck your stupid flea nose somewhere it didn't belong?"

Izaya snorted and waved him off. "Calm down, Shizu-chan. It's not like anyone ever died from this thing. They just said it wouldn't play, and wanted to give it away for free. And besides, I do know how to play...a little."

Shizuo inhaled deeply. "Fine! But I swear to god! The first sign of hocus-pocus, weird ass shit, and this thing turns into firewood!"

Izaya crossed his heart with his free hand, and held it up under oath. "You have my most reliable word!"

The look Shizuo threw him was skeptical, at best. "Why do I have the feeling we're already doomed?" he moaned, taking out another cigarette. Izaya smirked in his direction.

"Because you're 'gifted'?" The way he said it made it sound like a mental handicap.

"Your mom's gifted," Shizuo muttered, underneath his breath. Izaya's lips spread in a wide smile, as he narrowed his eyes. He bumped into Shizuo, playfully, with his shoulder, hard enough to make the blonde man take a step out to the side. Shizuo smiled, and bumped him back. Unfortunately, a little nudge from Shizuo's shoulder was enough to send him into the side of the nearest building. Izaya hissed, as he pushed himself off the bricks.

"Neanderthal..." he grumbled. Shizuo favored him with a large and silly grin. As they came across a street trash can, Izaya waved for him to hand over his bags again. The unsuspecting body guard set them down and watched curiously as the informant gathered them up by their handles, and then proceeded to toss them on top of the rest of the waste.

"What the hell, flea?" Shizuo growled, clenching his fists. He quickly dug around in his pocket and withdrew a long, white piece of paper. "That's why there are receipts! For returning things!"

"Pft! How boring!" Izaya sighed, strolling on.

"But that shit was EXPENSIVE!" Shizuo wailed, glancing frantically back and forth between his discarded purchases and the quickly disappearing informant.

"That just makes it even more funny, Shizu-chan!" he chuckled. "Let it go and come with me. We've got enough time before dinner, and who cares if we're a little late?"

"Time for what?"

"Time to dress you like something besides a penguin or a butler...or an unemployed clown, which is apparently what you had in mind."

"ARGH! I don't know if I can handle any more shopping!" Shizuo ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, letting his head flop backwards. "It's like torture!"

"Because you make it torture!" Izaya tsked. "Trust me, Shizu-chan. I will not let you suffer, long. Put out the cigarette and come on." He waved him into the doorway of a slightly more upscale store, and the blonde man couldn't help but wrinkle his nose a bit. He was about to open his mouth to protest about the styles or the prices, but Izaya preemptively reached over and grabbed him by the arm. "Just get in here!" he commanded, with a sigh, and proceeded to push Shizuo to a table full of folded, dark blue and black jeans and slacks. He handed his violin case to Shizuo, and quickly thumbed through them, sliding out a few towards the middle. He threw the pants towards Shizuo, who caught them with his free hand, and without a word, quickly strode over to where most of the shirts and sweaters were hung and folded. With lightning speed, Izaya quickly sorted through the large quantity of clothing, periodically pulling out a button up or graphic t-shirt here and there. He piled Shizuo's arms high with clothing, so that the blonde man had to poke his head around the mountain to see where he was going. He steadily followed the informant on a mission to the back of the store towards the dressing rooms, where Izaya asked politely for a key, and shoved Shizuo through a door. "Try on everything, and step out the room for at least one second, every time. I don't care how stupid you think it looks. The faster you work through everything, the faster we get out of here. Got it?" Shizuo blinked at just how authoritative Izaya's voice was. Sounded like he meant business.

"Got it!" Shizuo grunted. Sounded simple enough. He handed Izaya back the violin, feeling that strange, ticklish feeling again in his finger tips, and shut the door. Izaya seated himself on one of the small benches, facing him. What followed was a quick succession of Shizuo opening the door for literally one second, Izaya glancing him over and saying yay or nay, and then the door slamming shut. The floor associates looked on at them, curiously, and a couple of the female workers giggled. Izaya's eyes darted to one of them while Shizuo was changing into something else, and he smiled, evilly. It was enough to make her blood run cold, and he held up his hand, and beckoned her over with his finger.

"Y-yes sir?"

"Good afternoon, giggles," he purred, making sure his eyes never left hers, and that he never blinked. He knew he had the desired effect when he could see all the color drain from her face. "We need a couple of belts and a decent pair of casual shoes, size- SHIZUO! Shoe size?"

"Uuuuuh, thirty!"

"-thirty," Izaya finished smoothly, bearing his teeth in a terrible grin. "I know that I can rely on you, and that you will not disappoint me."

"Y-yes sir!" the trembling girl gave a bow.

"Good girl. Now, chop-chop!" he clapped his hands, delighted at the way she leapt three feet in the air before racing off. He let out an evil chuckle as Shizuo opened the door. His eyes popped open, and he gave him a once over. "Pants yes, shirt no." Shizuo just simply shut the door again. It was amusing just how fast the blonde was changing from one thing to the next! Izaya guessed he really did hate shopping. He couldn't say it was his favorite thing to do, either, but now that Shizuo no longer had a consistent female in his life, someone had to give him a little nudge. "Hey, Shizu-chan, just put on the second pair of pants you tried on and the fourth shirt with that brown jacket, and let's go!"

"Alright!" Shizuo's voice was muffled through the door and a shirt he was currently struggling to get out of. The sales associate came back with the requested items, which she extended to Izaya with her head bowed low. Izaya rubbed his palms together, excitedly.

"Hummm, what have we here, eh?" He picked up a relaxed, dark brown, leather shoe out of a box and looked it over with a smirk. "Well done!" He took both shoes and threw them over the door.

"OW! What the hell?"

"Put those on, too! And hand me your tags!" he yelled as he tore the dangling price tags from the belt, before tossing it over the door, as well.

"God dammit! You could just crack open the door, you know?"

"Oh, like this?" Izaya marveled, as he opened the door a tiny crack and slipped his hand in. "I can has price tags?"

"Stupid flea!" Shizuo grumbled, as he rummaged around and handed him the tags from what he was wearing, along with the other clothes that had received his approval. Izaya immediately dumped the load on 'giggles', and sashayed up to the cash register, with the poor girl doing her best to totter behind him. Shizuo joined him right as he handed over his card. Izaya twirled around, effectively blocking the amount on the screen from view.

"Well! Quite the improvement! Ah, my genius never fails to shine through in all facets of life!"

"I look weird...," Shizuo lifted his feet, nervously, looking like he wanted to crawl away and hide. He shoved his hands into his new jacket pockets.

"You look wonderful! Giggles, doesn't he look wonderful?" Izaya leered over his shoulder at the girl, who at this point, was praying to every deity she knew for the card reading machine to work faster.

"Y-yes sir!" She gave Shizuo a little bow. "You look very nice, Sir." Shizuo blinked at her, and at the evil face Izaya was currently giving her, and sighed. Sometimes it seemed that it was impossible for Izaya to go anywhere without trying to terrify someone.

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, kicking the toe of his new shoe into the ground.

"Stop that, Shizu-chan!"

"Sorry..."

They left the store, and Izaya had a little skip in his walk, as he gleefully swung his violin case around. "I have confidence in sunshine~!" he began to sing.

"Really?" Shizuo grumbled, shaking his head and lighting a cigarette. He was already uncomfortable with the amount of stares he was receiving in his new clothes, and Izaya was hell bent on drawing even more attention.

"I have confidence in raaaaain~!"

"I have confidence that I'm going to punch your freakin' face in if you don't shut up!"

"Ah, Shizu-chan's always so grumpy!" Izaya pouted, as he twirled around and half skipped, backwards. "And it's such a shame, because you have such a beautiful smile!" Shizuo blushed, and said nothing. "So, let's just drop these bags off at my apartment since it's closer, and we'll go see Celty-san and Shinra, hm?" His eyes scrunched shut in a happy smile that Shizuo couldn't help but feel was utterly adorable. It kind of made him feel like reaching out and hugging him, and his arm started to unconsciously lift, as Izaya turned back around, before falling limply back to his side. Ah, bitter defeat... Why did life have to be so difficult?

As Shizuo mentally bemoaned his current situation, they walked in silence a good deal of the time, and said little to each other, even after they reached Izaya's apartment. Shizuo tossed the bags on the sofa, and turned to leave, Izaya eyeing him curiously while his head was turned. It was the part of the informant's job to read people, and Shizuo knew he had to be acting weird. A strange awkwardness had settled in like a thick fog, and the blonde man couldn't help but feel he was dooming himself to a life a solitude before he even tried otherwise.

"Neh, Shizu-chan," Izaya piped up, as they were just about to reach their final destination. He fingered the handle of the violin case, and gripped it more tightly. "Why such a long face? What's going through that little, Pleistocene brain of yours?"

Shizuo had no idea what that meant, but coming from Izaya, it had to be an insult of some kind. "Nothing," he quickly lied.

"What a boring answer..."

"I'm a pretty boring person."

"Hardly!" Izaya chuckled, as he opened the front door of the building and stepped through, letting Shizuo catch it behind him. "I can't really think of anyone else who single-handedly dismembered two demons in one night!"

Shizuo shrugged. "I've got that 'Pleistocene' strength to go along with my 'Pleistocene' brain."

The grin Izaya threw him was practically maniacal, his eyes sparkling. He let himself fall against Shizuo's tall and lean form in the elevator with a contented hum. "You're my favorite," he sighed, happily. Before Shizuo even thought about it, his arm snaked around Izaya's shoulders, hugging him tightly against his body. As soon as he realized what he was doing, his arm quickly dropped, and a very wide eyed Izaya slowly took a step back, clearing his throat nervously. Shizuo felt like pulling his hair out and screaming. Had he really just hugged him? Hugs were fine and dandy in the proper place and time, but alone? On an elevator? That seemed kind of..._intimate_! There was silence for a minute, as both of them avoided eye contact and the elevator continued its ascent. Finally, Izaya broke the silence with an extremely amused chuckle, one that made Shizuo's stiff shoulders flinch. "Ah, seems neither of us are on our A game, today, neh?" he smiled, good naturedly, walking beside him again and craning his head to try and see into Shizuo's eyes. The body guard still averted his gaze, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Tch! You can say that again," he almost whispered. Izaya's smile broadened, as he continued to try and get Shizuo to look directly at him. When he finally did glance at the informant out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but mirror the insanely large grin smiling up at him. Izaya straightened his back triumphantly.

"That's my Shizu-chan! No more frownies! We're here to have a good time, tonight! And I shall provide the after dinner entertainment!" he lifted the case and gave it a wave. "And believe me, after Celty's cooking, we're probably going to need-"

The doors opened to the apron wearing dulluhan, standing directly in front of them.

"Heeeeeey!" both men said in unison, uncomfortable, guilty smiles covering their faces. She waved at them excitedly, and gestured for them to come inside. Shinra came bounding out of the office at the sound of the elevator doors.

"Izaya! Shizuo! Glad you made it!"

Celty had picked up her PDA and quickly typed a message. She held it out to Shizuo, but Izaya still stood on his tip toes to read it.

_"You look really great, Shizuo! I love your clothes!"_

"Doesn't he, though!" Izaya puffed out his chest proudly. Shizuo shook his head as he thanked her and took his seat next to his friend, who was already chattering away happily at Shinra about some new, illegal drug circulating the underground, as the doctor poured him a glass of wine. "And I'm sure you don't know anything about it, but supposing you did, I and a client of mine would be most interested to hear how it might be turned into a powder form."

"Eh heh..." Shinra chuckled, nervously. "Aren't you off the clock, Izaya?"

"Yeah, Izaya-kun!" Shizuo glared a bit, completely disapproving of the informant's line of work, in general. Izaya shrugged, dismissively.

"Ah, the great wealth of information that is Izaya Orihara is a train that never stops running, I'm afraid."

_"You should learn to take it easy, more. Some things are more important than work, and you don't want to die young!" _Celty warned. Izaya read her text, and chuckled.

"Maybe so," he conceded, though there was little conviction behind it. Shizuo heaved a silent sigh. Here was another stumbling block. How could he be in a relationship with someone who was a borderline criminal mastermind? Not that he thought Izaya would ever get caught, or do anything that any court could actually construe as 'illegal', but it was the principle of the thing! These thoughts consumed him all through dinner, and the one blessing was that it took his mind away from the terribly over salted fish that Izaya and Shinra were also currently choking down with plenty more wine. He just wished so badly that Izaya had a normal job. But nothing about Izaya was ever normal, and how could he expect him to leave a profession that he derived so much joy from?

'I couldn't...' was the final thought, as a slightly intoxicated Shinra ushered them all back into the living room, where an even tipsier Izaya proceeded to jump on top a chair, violin in hand. Celty clapped her hands, excitedly, and took a seat next to the doctor. Shizuo just hoped the flea didn't fall off the damn chair! He was sure swaying around, enough!

"Lady and gentlemen," Izaya drawled, with a bow, "it is my pleasure to play you a delightful little tune this evening. I hope you enjoy!" Celty clapped again as Shinra guffawed at the dramatic introduction and told him to get on with it. Izaya grinned, and, after quickly plucking at the strings to make sure it was tuned with some minor adjustments, brought the instrument to his chin. Then, he began to play, and it sounded...

It sounded...

Well, it sounded just awful.

Shizuo quickly brought his hands up to his ears with a painful groan as the screeching and sliding of the bow dragged across the wailing strings. Shinra was not holding up much better, as he practically cowered into Celty's side, trying desperately to escape the racket. Only the dulluhan sat upright, seemingly unaffected and listening, diligently. After a few minutes of the dreadful noise, Izaya paused, and stared at the instrument again. Shinra and Shizuo heaved a sigh of relief, as they brought their trembling hands away from their ears. Celty clapped, politely. Izaya ignored everyone, and continued to stare at the violin.

"God, I thought you said you could play!" Shizuo wailed, his ears still ringing.

"I can..." Izaya's voice was thoughtful and distant. "Hmm, I guess they were right."

"What?" Shinra asked.

"The violin really won't play for anyone."

"Maybe it's just broken," Shizuo offered. Izaya shook his head.

"No, it's strings are fine, and it's in tune. How delightfully odd..."

"Not sure delightful's the right word," Shizuo grumbled, downing another glass of wine.

Izaya laughed, and tucked the thing away. "Well, we'll investigate that later. Who's up for a round of cards?" As he put the instrument away, Shizuo felt a wave of bitter loneliness sweep over him, and it made him jump. Such a strong feeling couldn't have sneaked up on him from his own mind. His gaze shifted back to the violin, and he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes.

"Hold on, Izaya," he said, doing his best to steady his voice. "Can I hold it for a minute?"

Izaya looked at him, quizzically, before shrugging. "Of course." He handed the violin to him, and Shizuo gently held it in his fingertips, as if he were afraid the delicate piece of wood would shatter at any moment. The desperate feelings the blonde man had felt before only intensified as he held the object in his hand, but no one else seemed to notice.

'What are you trying to tell me...?' he wondered, as he tried to hold back the sudden sobs threatening to overwhelm him. He felt like the violin was crying out for some kind of help, but he couldn't understand. Who was this? "Who's violin was this, originally?" Shizuo's own voice sounded distant to him.

"I'm not sure. I believe it's original owner died in the 1940's. But jeez, Shizu-chan! It's just an old violin! No need to get so worked up!"

Celty put a concerned hand on Shizuo's back, and it was only then that the blonde man realized he was breathing heavily, and tears were streaming down his face. He snapped out of his trance like state, and glanced about at all of the worried eyes currently trained on him. He chuckled, handing the violin back to Izaya. "Sorry!" he breathed, wiping his eyes. "I think I'm a little under the weather or something."

"The doctor says the cure for what ails you is more wine!" Shinra crowed, trying to lighten the mood. Izaya continued to look skeptically at him, and Shizuo just mouthed another sorry, before going to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face. Hazy images began to cloud his mind, and he shut his eyes, willing them away. He didn't need this right now! He had enough to worry about! But still...that violin... It's voice was so sad.

After a few minutes, the feelings calmed, and he rejoined the party, laughing, drinking, playing cards, and trying his best to ignore the troubled glances Izaya kept casting his way. The night slowly drew to a close, and Celty and Shinra insisted they just crash there instead of trying to make their way home, completely inebriated. Shizuo, completely exhausted from the night's happenings, took them up on it immediately, and flopped on their couch, quickly drifting off to sleep. Izaya was a bit hesitant, but he agreed to stay in the guest bedroom.

Shizuo was grateful to be free of the emotional turmoil he'd been suffering, lately, but the reprieve did not last long. He mumbled in his sleep and began to toss and turn, as those hazy images began to invade his mind once more, this time rapidly becoming clearer. In his dream, he stood upon a dessert at night, under a full moon and a thousand stars. He was waiting for someone... His mind raced with anticipation, as he tried to think of who. Ever so faint, the sound of a violin playing reached his ears, and he was transported to a small room of what looked to be an inn. He could feel soft sheets rustle, as he sat up, the violin music growing louder in his mind. He looked toward the window, his heart thundering loudly in his ears. There, leaning casually against the sill, was a man who bore a striking resemblance to Izaya. Shizuo felt as if he were holding his breath. The gentle, afternoon breeze drifted in through the open window, slightly obscuring the man as the long, translucent drapes fluttered to his sides. He only wore a long, button down shirt, barely reaching his mid thighs, and his long, white legs were crossed and stretched out straight as he played, his eyes closed and a tranquil smile on his lips as the wind lifted the ends of his soft, black hair. The song he played was so nostalgic and bittersweet, it brought tears to his eyes, and he unconsciously reached out his hand toward the angelic figure.

"Izaya?" he tried to speak, but he could only hear the sound of the violin, as the man continued to play. The room shifted from day to night, and Shizuo could see the man sleeping peacefully next to him, and he marveled at just how beautiful he was. Nothing to hold him back, he gently put his hand to the side of the man's face, relishing the softness that met his fingertips. The man's eyes fluttered open, and Shizuo could see that they were a deep blue, darker than the ocean, but they shone with an electric intensity that both frightened him and made him want to sing. With an all too familiar smirk, the man extended his upper body so that his lips rested next to Shizuo's ear.

"Forgive me, Vincent," he whispered. The sensation of his soft lips so close to him made Shizuo feel as though his body was melting. He couldn't ever imagine being unable to forgive this man. He couldn't imagine not adoring this man! "You will, won't you?" he begged, but there was a coy, teasing note in his lyrical voice, and just a hint of sadness.

As Shizuo reached out to hold the man in his arms, he was met with the sensation of cold chains and lacerations against his skin. Something kept striking him, and he couldn't see, as something had been placed over his head, blinding him. He could hear the metallic clanking of his bonds against a cold, stone floor, and someone was barking orders in a language he did not understand. He suddenly felt so lost, and alone, and in pain, and...angry?

"Zola...," the name rolled off of Shizuo's tongue, as if he'd known it all his life, and the brilliant eyes that sparkled like the midnight sky full of stars flashed across his mind.

_"Forgive me!"_ the words roared in his mind like thunder crashing, painful and loud. _"Please, please forgive me!"_

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><p><strong>Wow! What's going on? :\ Who can say? Well, I suppose I can. ^^ Google says that Japanese shoe sizes are in centimeters, and I guessed Shizuo would be 30 cm or so. Dunno. But I'd like to know what you think of this story! :D Thanks for reading!<strong>_  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi hi! Look at that! Another update! It came out of nowhere! :P Thanks, peeps, for the reviews. I deeply appreciate them. Hope you like chapter 2.**

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><p>"<em>Forgive me!"<em>

"Shizuo, wake up!"

Shizuo shot up with a yell, breathing heavily. He clutched his sweat drenched hair, before letting his hands fall over his face, still panting. His head felt like he'd run it into a brick wall, and with a groan, he slowly eased back down. It took him a minute to realize the cool hands that were gripping his shoulders, and Izaya's voice babbling almost incoherently.

"You're burning up! Why didn't you tell me you were sick? I'm going to get Shinra!" Izaya's eyes were shining with concern, and Shizuo could see them glinting, frantically in the darkness. He had no idea what had just happened, but he was never happier to see Izaya's bright and rusty colored eyes, and he reached up and quickly caught his arm when he turned to leave.

"Stay," Shizuo whispered, hoarsely. Izaya slowly sat back down, not taking his eyes off of Shizuo's face, and he let his hand rest lightly on the side of the blonde man's arm.

"You were having a really bad nightmare," he told him. "I've been trying to wake you up for a while, but you were really out of it..." his voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. "You've been acting really strange, lately... Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Shizuo sighed, liking the way Izaya's fingers felt cool against his skin. "I'm fine...but I think your violin needs help..."

"My what?" Izaya asked, not even trying to hide the utter confusion in his voice. Feverish, Shizuo was already drifting off to sleep again, as a violent shiver traveled through his body. Izaya frowned, and tucked the blanket more securely around him. "Shizuo, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Zola... We have to..." Izaya practically had his ear smooshed against Shizuo's lips for those last words, and he still didn't understand. Shaking his head with a sigh, he got up to find a cloth from the kitchen and wet it with water. Placing it over Shizuo's head, he could feel the blonde man's heat warming it almost immediately. With a frown, he repeated the process again and again, until he eventually fell asleep himself, his head resting against Shizuo's shoulder.

Shizuo woke the next day, feeling a good deal better. Izaya, though tired from sleeping against the couch, still dogged him the entire morning, as they said their goodbyes, and personally saw to it that Shizuo made it home and into bed, even taking it upon himself to call Tom and let him know his employee would be absent. In the daylight, Shizuo had trouble recalling the strange dream he'd had, and decided to keep it to himself. After all, it could have just been brought on by the fever. Still, those notes haunted him, even as he napped throughout the day. Later that evening, after Izaya had run his business errands and met with all of his appointments, he dropped by Shizuo's apartment with a paper bag full of soup and a bottle of milk. Shizuo settled on the couch and gratefully drank the milk, before setting to work on the welcome food. Izaya proceeded to lecture him about his health and busy himself with tidying his apartment, as he talked. He smiled, contentedly. Izaya could be quite the little mother hen when he got going, and it made him feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

"You're not even listening to me! Sure, you're super strong, but one day you'll just drop dead if you don't take care of yourself more! You need to be more careful!"

"Yes, mother!" Shizuo grinned, rather enjoying the fact that he seemed to be the only person capable of putting the informant in a frenzied state. Izaya glared at him a moment, before giving him an exasperated sigh and opening the window to let fresh air in. Shizuo's curtain caught the breeze, and fluttered around him, and something painful jolted the blonde man's memory. "How's the violin playing going?" he asked.

"Better," Izaya's face brightened. "I took it to a few specialists on my way here, and they couldn't tell me anything about it, except that it was German. But I tried my hand at a few things, and I think I've found a song that agrees with it!"

"Agrees?"

"Indeed! Strangely enough, I can't play anything but this one song. You should have seen the look on the luthier's face!"

Shizuo began to feel something in his stomach sink, but he had to ask. "Could you play it for me?"

Izaya smiled, and quickly fetched the instrument from the side of the front door, where he'd dropped it upon entering. He walked back to the window, and gently nestled the instrument in between his chin and shoulder. Shizuo sat forward on the couch, placing his soup on the coffee table and watching him, intently. Izaya drew a deep breath, and began to play. The color drained from Shizuo's face. It wasn't quite as professional, and maybe Izaya hit the wrong note here and there, but It was the same song. It was Zola's song. As Izaya played next to the window, Shizuo's dream came back to him in vivid detail, and he began to feel dizzy. Those same blue eyes bore into his mind, and he began to swoon. He was vaguely aware of Izaya stopping his playing and asking him if he felt alright, but his voice sounded so far away, and he quickly lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>"Sayedi, please, you cannot sleep, here," the timid owner of the small bar gently shook the slumbering man's shoulders at one of the tables. The groggy man stirred with a grunt, yawning loudly, and glared at the smaller, Egyptian man, languidly scratching his whiskers until the man took a step back in fear. "I am sorry to disturb you, Sayedi. But you cannot sleep, here." His voice shook, apologetically. It was kind of hard to maintain a gruff, American act in front of someone so obviously petrified. He threw back his blonde, unruly head and laughed.<p>

"Okay, friend! Jeez, not like I'm going to hit ya!" he chuckled, slapping the man on the shoulder as he rose. "Just had a long day, is all."

"You guided the new support unit into town, Sayedi? We are grateful for your service."

"You don't have to lie, my friend," the blonde man drawled, straightening the loose kerchief around his neck, and placing his broad tipped, leather hat on his head. "I'm well aware about how you people feel about the Brits. And besides, they pay well enough."

"We do not all feel that way, Sayedi. I see not how it will benefit me more to be ruled by the Nazi regime than the British."

"Well, you are wise, my friend. Name's Vincent Scott, by the way. I'll probably be sticking around here until the threat blows over."

"It is an honor to know your name, Sayedi! I am Hamid Sheikhzadeh Nadjar, but please just call me Hamid." Vincent whistled at the long name, before slapping his leg with amusement.

"You'll get no argument from me there, Hamid!" He gave him a little mock salute before waving and walking out the door. Night had already fallen over the city of Cairo, but a gentle and warm wind blew across the dusty alleys of the city, as merchants finished storing away their wares. Not feeling like sleeping again so soon, Vincent wandered through the increasingly barren streets, until he came to the edge of the budding metropolis. In the distance, he could see the Nile catching the abundant starlight and reflecting it back towards the sky. The sound of a hyena yipping echoed throughout the otherwise silent night, and Vincent found himself settling down in the cool sand, and lying on his back to look at the heavens. It was times like these that he remembered why he'd left the states in the first place. There could be no better feeling than to gaze at billions of stars in a wild frontier. He had no master to answer to, and as his own man, he was free to come and go as he pleased, even as the modern world erupted in war around him. It didn't faze Vincent too greatly. He'd been part of the French Foreign Legion for a few years, and it had taught him many valuable skills beyond just speaking French. He was now a master guide, an expert at traveling the ever shifting sands of the barren desert, and his current jobs mostly consisted of guiding more British soldiers into the city. He didn't particularly like the implication of reinforcements. He rather enjoyed his life here, and troops piling up could only mean one thing; Nazi forces were invading from the North East. He supposed if they ever reached the city, he'd have to fight alongside the British, not out of any grand sense of nationalism. No, Vincent couldn't say he was a loyal to any particular country. Hell, he'd left his own in a heart beat! Those Nazis were just bad news, and he knew it. He'd already been thoroughly inundated with stories from the soldiers he traveled with. They spoke atrocities so terrible, sometimes it would give him nightmares. This Hitler guy sounded like a real piece of human trash, and he'd be damned if he took over Cairo, too.

As he thought, he unconsciously fingered the pistols at his sides and smiled. It'd been a while since he had to kill anybody, but he'd kill a Nazi without even blinking. And he had been a good soldier, being a good deal taller and stronger than most he'd met in his travels. He took a rolled cigarette out of his pack, and lit it, lazily sending streams of smoke into the sky. After an hour of navel gazing and enjoying the peaceful serenity of a quiet, Egyptian night, Vincent regretfully got to his feet and dusted off his brown, riding pants. No telling what would crawl into his boots if he stayed out there all night, and it was no doubt late.

Just as he was about to turn back towards the sleeping city, movement caught his eye. There in the distance, he could barely make out a heavily clothed figure bouncing along on the back of a camel, coming from the North. Vincent grit his teeth and squinted his eyes to see better. This was definitely strange. Cairo didn't get many visitors traveling alone these days, especially from the North. Suspicion immediately filled him, and he stood rooted to the spot until the figure slowed to a halt. The person in question pulled the black scarf from around his face, and gazed at him, curiously. Even in the dark, Vincent could see that this man's eyes were a strange, deep blue, and his unblinking scrutiny sent a chill down his spine. However, he was not one to be so easily intimidated, and just as he was about to demand this stranger's identity, the mysterious person smirked, broadly, and dismounted.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" his voice dripped like honey from his lips, and it was all Vincent could do to find his voice.

"...Huh?"

The man narrowed his eyes, mockingly. "Eloquent. I must tell you that if this is the way Cairo greets all of it's visitors, some may fail to be duly impressed."

Vincent immediately frowned, and grit his teeth. "Are you calling me stupid, friend?" he growled.

"Are you calling me 'friend', stupid?"

Now he was really about to give this scrawny little waif a serious piece of his mind, but something about the glittering mischief in the man's eyes stilled his hand. So instead, he tried to place the stranger's origins through what he could observe. He could see fine, black hair peeking beneath the cloth around his head, and his face was pale and delicately pointed. His voice, though extremely pleasant to listen to, held no hint of an accent, as he spoke perfect English. He quirked and eyebrow at Vincent's obvious confusion, and sighed. "Well, much as I'd love it if we stood here and stared at one another all night long, I could use a little refreshment."

Embarrassed, Vincent shook off his musings. "Eh? Sorry. Just not used to seeing people out here in the middle of the night."

"It is a rather odd time to travel, but the Bedouins I was riding with decided, quite suddenly, to go in a different direction," the man said, simply. "I take it you are a guide? If I'd had the money, I would have simply hired your services," the man spoke gingerly, as he took the reigns of his camel and began to lead the animal forward.

"Where're you coming from?"

"I caught a boat from Italy to Libya, before the war intensified. I've been wandering ever since. I was a music student in Florence, but things were becoming far too heated to focus on studies."

"You're not Italian," Vincent asserted, and he walked to the side of him. "Where'd you come from, originally?"

"Is this an interrogation, Mr...?"

"Vincent. Vincent Scott."

The odd man smiled. "So you are American, hm? How intriguing. My name is Zola Folke."

"That's German, isn't it?"

"Indeed! My father was German."

"You don't say!" Vincent did little to hide the snarl in his voice. "Well, hate to break it to you, but you're not going to be all that popular in this city! Got a pretty strong British presence here, and just in case you didn't get the memo, they hate Germans!"

"Perhaps they could find it in their noble hearts to only half hate me, as I am only half German."

"What was your mother?"

"My mother was quite human, and these are all rather personal questions, Mr. Scott. Since I've answered so many of yours, normally I'd ask some of my own, but there seems to be little to tell about your life."

Vincent wasn't sure whether or not he was supposed to be offended. "You're kind of a smart ass, aren't you?" he finally snorted, spitting to the side. Zola wrinkled his nose at the display, and his frown only deepened when Vincent took out another cigarette.

"Smoking will kill you," he said, matter of factly. Vincent laughed.

"Says who? Smoking's good for you! Even the doctors say so! It relaxes you!"

"They won't for long."

"Tch! Sorry if it offends you!" But he really wasn't. In fact, he intentionally tried to blow the second hand smoke in Zola's face. Zola coughed.

"So nice to know that you reinforce the general world view of Americans," he sighed.

"And what's that?"

Zola smiled, evilly. "That you are all rude as fuck."

Vincent had to throw back his head and laugh at that. "I like you, Zola! You're alright!" he slapped the man's back rather harshly, and the smaller man almost fell forward. "How 'bout I buy you a drink!"

"How kind of you to offer, Mr. Scott!" Zola purred. "I accept."

Vincent blushed a little at being called 'Mr. Scott' again, especially in that tone of voice, and he cleared his throat. "You can just call me Vincent, you know?"

"Of course I know, Vincent."

The blonde man laughed again, and threw his arm around his new acquaintance's shoulder. "Glad you're here, Zola! This city can get a little boring, but you and I; we'll have a lot of fun!"

Zola smiled an almost sinister smirk. "I'm sure we will."

They reached the bar that Vincent had drank at earlier that day, and after Zola tied the tired camel next to a watering trough, they both sat at a small table. It was a little more crowded now that the sun had gone down, as many business and merchant men no doubt stopped off on their way home from work. Vincent threw himself into a chair, slamming his fist down on the table and throwing his hat to the side. Zola blinked at his familiar demeanor, and slowly unwound the scarf from around his head and neck. "Come here often, do you?"

"I do now! Hamid! A whiskey for me and my good friend, here!"

"Oh, we're good friends now? My, my! Perhaps you should learn to guard yourself better," Zola smiled, menacingly, as he slowly sat down in the seat opposite him. Vincent was, indeed, caught off guard once again. It was something to speak to the man in the dark, while he was shrouded in black cloaks, but now that his over garments had been discarded and he was in the light, Vincent could appreciate just how good looking this person really was. Everything about Zola reminded him of delicate porcelain, and he moved with a pointed grace that made all the local dancers look like bumbling fools. When his seemingly endlessly deep, blue eyes settled on him, he found it very hard to stop his heart from fluttering.

'God damn...I've been spending too much time around camels and soldiers...' he scolded himself. "Later tonight, you and I are going out and getting girls!" he declared quite suddenly, pounding his fist on the table top with conviction. He had to get these silly kinds of thoughts out of his head.

Zola's eyebrows shot high into the air, and he chuckled, airily, lacing his long and graceful fingers together. "If you insist," he smiled. "Or, perhaps, if you have some time, I could entertain you."

"W-what?" Vincent stuttered. He was pretty sure his face was blushing, furiously.

"I am a musician, after all," he shrugged.

"Mus-? Oh! Yeah! What do you play, anyway?"

"The violin."

Vincent raised his eyebrows in surprise. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but for some reason, it wasn't that. Maybe it was because he hadn't heard someone play the violin since he was a small child. Zola read his momentary shock, and sighed. "I know what you're thinking, I look more like a flautist, and I did dabble in it for a while in school, but now I only reserve that for...special occasions." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Vincent suddenly found it very hard to swallow, as all of his blood began to rush south. God damn it! Why was practically every thing this man said or did turning him on? It was damn annoying! "You're blushing a bit," Zola commented lightly, that same infuriatingly, oddly becoming smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Vincent growled. "God, damn it, Hamid! What's a guy have to do to get a drink around here?"

"I am sorry, Sayedi!" Hamid quickly hurried over with their drinks. He eyed Zola, questioningly, and his eyes flickered back and forth between the two oddly matched men, but he said nothing, and only gave a slight bow in retreat. Vincent blinked at him, and nodded his head in the owner's direction.

"Hamid's a good guy," he affirmed, as he practically drained his drink in one gulp.

"I'm sure..." Zola smiled, taking a small sip of the liquor, before twisting his glass slowly back and forth on the table top. "So, Vincent, how was the Foreign Legion?"

"How'd you know about that?" Vincent demanded, eyeing him, suspiciously.

"It's really the only reason I could think of for an American around your age to have wound up as a guide in Cairo, of all places. I can tell from your voice and mannerisms that you were raised in the United States...South Eastern part, perhaps?"

"Tennessee."

"Ah. Well?"

Vincent thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't know. It was alright, I guess. Anything to get away from home."

"Do soldiers from the Foreign Legion have a large presence in this city?"

"Nah, not so much. Tch! They're too busy fighting each other!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, half the guys are joining the Free French movement, and the other half are hopping on board with the Vichy government after the occupation. My time was already over at that point, so I don't follow much of it anymore. Everyone is fighting everyone and no one knows what we are really fighting for." Vincent smiled, sadly, suddenly becoming a bit melancholy. "It sure seems that way a good bit of the time, huh?"

Zola regarded him, curiously for a moment, a deep frown entrenched on his face. "Men fight for power and dominance, or out of desperation, Vincent. It's as simple as that." As Vincent lifted his gaze to meet his eyes, he saw that their color had become hard, like black ice, and he could see within them an almost animal like ferocity being held at bay. He tilted his glass up, and Vincent was momentarily hypnotized by the way his Adam's apple moved as he drank. "But enough of that unpleasantness!" he was suddenly all smiles again, as the terrifying look had vanished by the time he brought his glass down. "How about another drink? What was his name...Hamid? Mr. Hamid!" he raised an elegant hand in a flagging gesture. Hamid quickly brought two more drinks to their table. They proceeded to talk and laugh a good portion of the night, both becoming quite intoxicated in their merriment. After about the sixth round, Vincent slapped his hands on the table.

"Play something for me!"

"NEIN!" Zola tossed his head, dramatically. "I cannot! I have terrible stage fright! It's the real reason I left music school!"

"You're such a fucking LIAR!" Vincent laughed, and to his delight, Zola erupted into a mad giggling fit as well. "Come on, everyone here would like to hear it! Wouldn't you guys?" He yelled to his left and right, eliciting many stares and silly grins from the equally as drunk men around them. The British soldiers began laughing and nodding, enthusiastically, but his words were quite lost on most of the crowd. The Arab occupants tilted their heads in slight confusion, until Vincent pointed to Zola's violin case at his feet and yelled, "KAMAAN!"

"KAMAAN!" all the men raised their glasses and echoed, stomping their feet. "Kamaan! Kamaan!" they repeated it like a mantra, until, with a roll of his eyes, Zola stood up, albeit a little unsteadily, from the table. Vincent laughed loudly, and clapped his hands and the room began to cheer. The dark haired man narrowed his eyes at him.

"You are going to pay for this, friend!" he smirked. There was something so predatory about it, that Vincent quickly stopped laughing, once again feeling his body temperature climb the scale.

"Come play over here, Sayedi!" Hamid called jovially from the front of the bar, and he brought a small stepping stool for Zola to stand upon. The violinist smiled, appreciatively, at the room, as he stood to face them.

"Well, it's been quite a while since I played for a full house, eh?"

The British soldiers and Vincent laughed, and then everyone quieted, as the raven haired man brought the violin to rest under his chin. The notes slowly began to drift across the room, nostalgic and sad, and it was all Vincent could do to breathe. The music reminded him of his home, the place he'd left so long ago, of his family and his loved ones, people he'd more than likely never see again, and the emotions floating from Zola's strings as he gracefully glided the bow up and down made him want to cry. The violin sang of an endless longing, something treasured lost forever. It was so very beautiful, but so very, very sad. When Zola stopped playing, there was barely a dry eye in the entire room. Everyone was speechless for a moment, before bursting into applause. Zola smiled, graciously, and bowed a couple of times, before nimbly jumping down and making his way back to his seat. Vincent didn't know what to say. Zola took another sip of his drink and leaned over the table.

"That song was for you," he winked, as he finished his drink and rose. Vincent unconsciously stood with him, as he tucked his violin away and gathered his cloak. "Thank you for the wonderful evening. You've made me feel quite welcome and at home in Cairo, after all," he smiled. Then, without waiting for the still tongue tied guide to speak, he pivoted on his heels and walked outside. Vincent began to run after him, before Hamid hollered about the check, bringing him to a screeching halt. With an impatient groan, the blonde man quickly dumped a few bills and change on the table and raced out the door.

"Zola, wait!" he cried, running to catch up with the dark haired man, who was already leading his camel down the dusty road. Zola paused near an alley way, and turned to face him, the same concealing smile lighting his face. Vincent reached him, and took a moment to catch his breath, not letting his eyes leave the man's face. "Stay with me," he said. Zola raised an eyebrow.

"Was that even a question?" he laughed.

"Stay with me, please? Just don't go! I don't want you to go!"

"So emotional!" Zola tsked, shaking his head in amusement. "What kind of man are you to be won so easily? By another man, no less?"

"Shut up!" Vincent growled, as he quickly closed the distance between them. Suddenly, Zola looked very uncomfortable, and his eyes darted nervously from side to side, before staring back into Vincent's honey colored ones.

"We can't do this," he whispered, even as his eyes smoldered with an emotion that Vincent was sure he was reflecting in his own eyes; lust.

"Who says?" he breathed, as his lips barely ghosted across the violinist's. He could feel the sharp intake of breath, and an excited shiver ran down his spine. Zola's eyelids shut tightly, as he leaned his forehead into Vincent's broad shoulder. He could feel the smaller man trembling, as if waging some inward battle to gain dominance over his own desires, but it was to no avail. Vincent had seen battles before, and he knew when they were lost. He ran his fingers through his soft, black hair, and gently pulled his head back to drink in the deep pools of blue he was sure he'd never grow tired of, gazing at him from beneath thick eyelashes. Reaching up with his other hand, he ran his fingers lightly along the side of Zola's slender neck, eliciting a small, and breathy moan from him. Feeling a bit bolder, Vincent once again barely touched his lips against Zola's soft ones, feeling his quickly increasing pulse beneath his finger tips, before crashing them together. The raven haired man's eyebrows furrowed, as he fought to return the kiss and not be completely consumed. The wise camel, sensing their shenanigans, quickly moved away, so that Zola was forced to take a couple of steps until his back was against the wall, with Vincent's strong body supporting him. His hands searched down the blonde man's body until he found his belt and he clutched it tightly, pushing them together more firmly. Vincent broke away from the kiss with a groan, as he rolled his hips forward, causing both men's groins to rub against each other and send ripples of pleasure through them. Zola's eyes rolled listlessly to the back of his head, as he slumped forward, gripping the taller man's waist more tightly. Vincent brought his head down low, until his cheek was aligned with his. "Stay with me," he whispered, before biting down gently on his ear. The smaller man groaned from the sensation, and Vincent quickly caught his lips in another, deep kiss that left them both gasping for air.

"Ah," Zola chuckled, as he struggled to stand from being so overwhelmed. "I think I like Americans... Please tell me that you stay no more than ten steps away from here..."

"About one block," Vincent murmured, trailing kisses down his neck, before biting down at the base of his shoulder. Zola's eyes fluttered for a moment, as he bit back another moan.

"Good," he sighed, leaning his face into the mop of blonde hair. A thought occurred to him, and he glanced around at the empty streets. "We can go there just as soon as I find my delinquent camel..." Vincent poked his head up at that, and looked about. He laughed, rubbing the back of his head, sheepishly.

"Sorry..." he mumbled, smiling a smile which Zola returned.

"Apparently, we weren't a good enough show. Come on; he couldn't have gotten far."

* * *

><p>Shizuo awoke to the shine of Shinra's glasses, as he peered at something on his head.<p>

"Oh, hey, Shizuo," he said, quite naturally, as he fidgeted with what had to be a bandage of some sort. "Just let me finish redressing this. Your coffee table must have really sharp corners!"

Shizuo blinked in utter confusion for a few seconds, before sitting up as Shinra backed away. "What-"

"Happened?" Shinra cut in, as he handed him a pill and a glass of water from the side table. "Well, according to Izaya, You were okay one moment, and you just passed out the next!" The doctor smiled, gleefully. Shizuo wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Why are you so happy about that?"

"Because, it's fascinating! There's absolutely nothing wrong with you! I mean, your fever spiked a little during the night, but that shouldn't have been a reason to knock you out cold." Shizuo rolled his eyes. Great. He probably had cancer or some stupid shit like that. Just his luck! "And before you ask, you don't have cancer or anything like that. If you were advanced enough in a disease to be passing out, something would have shown up in your blood samples. Blood sugar levels were normal, and it wasn't as if you were in a coma again. Your brain was quite active, in fact! It's fascinating! You must have been having quite the dream!"

Shizuo sighed, but said nothing. Shinra didn't know just how right he was. Now that his head was beginning to clear, he was beginning to understand what all this nonsense was about. But shit! Why couldn't a ghostly apparition just appear and tell him straight up what the situation was? ...Nah... Shizuo was not THAT lucky. Honestly, the body guard didn't even want to know the end to the story currently playing out in his dreams. If they resulted in a haunted violin, he was pretty sure the events weren't going to be pretty. No, there was only one thing to do. Izaya had to get rid of that damn violin!

"Well, now that you have arisen once more, I'll go get Izaya. I'm going to go ahead and issue a warning statement; he's probably in a worse condition than you are right now, and I think it would be wise to put him out of his misery as soon as possible."

Shizuo snorted, but he smiled all the same. No sooner had Shinra left then Izaya came striding in, running his hands over his hair, and straightening out his clothes. Shizuo didn't have to wonder; he was pretty sure the informant had spent the entire night there. In fact, he'd probably been bugging the hell out of Shinra the entire time, peppering him with questions, and had obviously not slept or been home to change. He looked terribly disgruntled, like a cat that had been thrown into a vat of cold water. The obviously exhausted man stalked straight up to Shizuo's bedside and folded his arms, staring down at him with a most horrible frown. Shizuo's smile grew smaller and smaller, until it turned upside down.

"...What?"

"What? WHAT?" Izaya echoed, flailing his arms out to his sides. "What do you mean, '_what_'? What the hell is wrong with you? And don't pretend that you don't know, because I know you do!" Izaya accused.

"Oh really?" Shizuo drawled, a little surprised at just how flustered Izaya was. "How do you know that?"

"I can see it on your face! There's an utter lack of confusion that should be completely dominating all of your facial features, right now!"

Shizuo sighed. He was going to have to learn to conceal his inner thoughts a little better, someday. Best to just come right out and say it, he supposed. "Okay, you're right. That violin's haunted."

Izaya blinked, and then smirked. "Well, of COURSE it's haunted, Shizu-chan! Even I was able to figure that out! I mean, a violin that can only play one song, no matter the skill level of the player? That's just not possible in this world, therefore it must be the doing of the next!"

Shizuo ground his teeth. "Well, if you know it's haunted then why the hell haven't you gotten rid of it?" he growled.

"Ah hah! That is because I lied to you, before!" Shizuo rolled his eyes. Izaya? Lie? Naaah... "In fact, a couple of people over the years have mysteriously died when they either sold or tried to destroy the violin. You have to take good care of it!"

"Greeeat... So that's why it's been glued to you since you got it."

"Indeed!"

"You're such a fucking flea!" Shizuo roared, stumbling out of bed in an effort to swing at him. It didn't take much skill for Izaya to simply side step him, exhausted as he was. "How can someone so smart be so god damn stupid?"

"Eh?" Izaya grinned, raising his eyebrows. "I'm just curious!"

"About fucking all the wrong things!" Shizuo seethed, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Mmm, that's your opinion, I guess. I find it rather interesting, myself. Instead of standing there foaming at the mouth like a complete brute, why don't you tell me why you've been acting so strange lately? Oh, and how YOU knew the violin was haunted!"

Shizuo startled, and stared at Izaya strangely for a moment. Looking at the informant smirking up at him, his arms crossed in a relaxed fashion but his eyes practically glowing with a fierce intensity, the blonde man couldn't help but see Zola, and he had to do a double take. They were so similar and not just in looks. From what Shizuo had seen from his dream, which he was beginning to suspect was in fact a vision of the past, Zola held all of Izaya's fluent grace, and definitely made the same snarky faces. The only differences he could think of was their eye color...and that Zola seemed to fall for people quite hard and quite easily, which, now that he thought about it, kind of seemed out of character a bit...

For his part, Izaya begun to look a little unnerved at the overabundance of direct eye contact he was receiving, and began to frown. "Earth to Shizu-chan!" he yelled, making Shizuo jump back to his senses. "You are starting to make me dither, and Izaya Orihara is no ditherer!"

"Di-? I don't even know what that means, flea!" Shizuo sighed, sitting back down on the bed and tiredly rubbing his hands against his face. Izaya sat down next to him, but Shizuo did not look up to see the expression on his face.

"It means..." Izaya began to explain, his voice dropping down low, "That I'm worried about you. You were acting strangely before I even got the violin. What's wrong?"

Shizuo cleared his throat, still looking away. "It's...something I have to figure out on my own," he said, softly. "You can't help me; I'm sorry."

Izaya rose abruptly in what Shizuo almost interpreted as annoyance, but the informant was smiling again as if the conversation for the last minute had never happened. It made him feel a little guilty. It was rare for Izaya to attempt to reach out emotionally, but how could he tell him what was really bothering him? "Well, that's that, then!" the raven haired man said a bit too brightly. "What about my haunted, little violin? What do you know?"

Shizuo searched for the right words. "It's not yours."

"Eh?"

"It belongs to a man named Zola... Zola Folke. He's not alive anymore, but he's definitely still affecting that violin and everyone who comes in possession of it."

"How do you know all of that?"

"I saw it, in a dream."

Izaya's eyes were ablaze with immense curiosity, and the startled look gave way to one of extreme delight. "Hmmm...Zola Folke? That's German, neh?"

"He's half German, and... And you look almost _exactly _like him." Shizuo gazed directly into the informant's wide, burnt red eyes as he said it. "Izaya...is there any way in hell you two could be related?"

"Well, you said he was half German. What's the other half?" Izaya queried.

"I don't know."

"Why don't you tell me about this dream, then, from start to finish?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3! Look at us go! :3 I say, hooah! Thank you everyone who read this far. I feel like I should put out the warning that this chapter is why I made this story rated "M". However, for seasoned yaoi fans, it's really quite tame. ^^;**

* * *

><p>And so Shizuo told him, trying his best not to get too flushed towards the end of it. He may have omitted a few details here and there, but jeez! It's not like Izaya needed to know all the intimate details, right? Izaya listened quietly, and was silent a while after Shizuo finished. "I think Zola's been trying to tell me something...but I'm not sure what. The first time I heard him speak, he was asking Vincent to forgive him for something. And that song you played, it's the first song Vincent every heard Zola play, and I think he played it for him often. I don't think it ended well between them. In fact, I'm pretty sure Vincent wound up in a prison of some sort."<p>

"Seems like they are lovers that had quite the falling out," Izaya thought aloud as he began to pace back and forth.

"Well, I know Vincent loved him. He seemed to love him a LOT...but...I'm not so sure about Zola."

Izaya laughed. "Of course, the guy who looks like me is the one who's a little hard to read! What are you implying? That Zola never loved Vincent at all and used him in some way?"

"I'm not sure. I think he must have loved him a little, otherwise he wouldn't be seeking his forgiveness beyond the grave."

"You experienced all of this through the eyes of Vincent Scott, correct?"

"Yes."

"Could you feel what he was feeling? You mentioned a prison of some sort. What was going through his mind?"

Shizuo recalled the unpleasant feelings for a moment. "He felt betrayed and really sad..." his voice sounded almost hollow. Izaya patted him on the shoulder, comfortingly.

"Remember, it's not your problem, Shizu-chan," he warned, gently. "Don't let spirits from the past overwhelm you. We'll get to the bottom of it, neh?"

"You're right," Shizuo grunted, shaking off his melancholy. "What do you think about Zola?"

Izaya sighed, and his eyes rolled upward as he thought for a moment. "I think he was obviously lying about being a music student. More than likely, from what you're saying, he was probably affiliated with the Nazis and working with them to invade Cairo."

"That's terrible!" Shizuo cried, standing with clenched fists. "The scumbag! How could he lie about that to Vincent? It's not fair!"

"Whoa, Shizu-chan!" Izaya held his hands up with a nervous chuckle. "Life's not always fair, and remember what we talked about? Neither of these men are probably even still alive! Maybe it was Zola's job to lie! Maybe he was a spy! Even I have to be choosy with my words in my line of work. What was he supposed to do? Waltz into Cairo and announce his Nazi affiliations?"

"He didn't have to make Vincent care for him so much," Shizuo muttered.

"Sounds like Vincent made that decision on his own," Izaya pointed out. "Zola never asked for him to run after him." Shizuo just stared at him, disbelievingly. Izaya just didn't understand. It was impossible for Vincent not to love him, about as impossible for Shizuo not to love that little, stray fox that continued to turn his world upside down. "So instead of getting all bent out of shape about how two homosexuals behaved in a very turbulent time in Egypt over 70 years ago, why don't we do a little research, and see where that leads us?"

Shizuo grit his teeth, but then his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," he apologized. Izaya smiled.

"Nothing to worry about. I haven't seen the things you have. Get some rest. I have some work to do, but I'll get back to you when I find something out."

"Okay."

Izaya gave him a wave and walked out the door, and Shizuo laid back down in the bed, still feeling a bit under the weather. Good thing he had today off, anyway. He was going to have to find a way to make this nonsense up to Tom. Slowly, his thoughts began to drift away back to their present problem. Zola...a Nazi spy? Figured. He briefly wondered if it came down to Izaya's job and Shizuo's welfare, which would the informant choose? The blonde man was terrified to know the answer, especially now that he knew what it felt like to be on the losing end of a relationship like that. Even knowing he needn't ever fear chains or torture, or any of the things Vincent had faced, none of that was as terrible as being forsaken. With these somber feelings, the blonde man slowly drifted back to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Hey, wise-guy!" Vincent roared out of his bedroom window into the crowded streets below. He wore nothing but a shirt and white shorts. "Mind telling me what happened to my fuckin' pants?"<p>

Zola stared up at him with feigned innocence from the thick of it, all. "Vincent, what on earth...Ooooh! You mean these?" he reached his hand into his cloak and withdrew the brown pants in question, swinging them around. The townspeople began to gradually stare back and forth between the two, and one by one, began chuckling until the entire block was dying with laughter. They seemed to be always putting on a show of some sort, and the locals had grown quite accustomed to the strange pair's often hilarious antics. Zola smirked evilly up at him, as Vincent turned red with rage. "Guess you are staying home today, Vin-vin," he called

"I told you not to fucking call me that, you little sand flea!" Vincet yelled at the top of his lungs. "I'm going to wring your scrawny, little neck!"

"Ah hah! You'd have to catch me- Oh? Oh, Vin-vin, please tell me you're not climbing out the- Oh how indecent!" was all Zola could get out before the only partially dressed man leapt from the rooftop and landed, running straight toward him. A wave of gasps swept over the crowd at the display, and women quickly averted their eyes, while the men only laughed harder. Vincent ran straight up to the shorter man and smacked his forehead against the one turned up toward him. "Why, good morning, my sunshine!"

That was all it took for Vincent to take a couple of swings at him, which Zola nimbly dodged, before dropping down and sweeping his leg to knock Vincent off both his feet. He landed flat on his back, giving the dark haired man ample opportunity to escape, still waving the pants about like a trophy. A camel lazily turned where the dazed and distraught blonde man had fallen, the drool dripping from its mouth and thoroughly coating Vincent's face.

"UGH!" he quickly sat up amid all the laughter, wiping the mess from his face. Zola was far too gone for him to even have a hope of catching up. It was just lucky for that little sand flea that it wasn't time to leave on a guiding trip, again. A few British soldiers he was acquainted with had been passing by and stopped their chuckling long enough to help him to his feet. Bombardier Charlie Miller, who had been in Cairo for roughly as long as he had, patted him on the back.

"Eh, lad, the little misses givin' you trouble again?" he laughed.

"He's no lady," Vincent growled, "Otherwise I couldn't crack his skull in for this, later!"

"Aye, but he's a pretty one," Charlie mused. At the sudden territorial look Vincent threw him, the man quickly shook his head and put up his hands with a laugh. "Ah, not what I meant, mate!" he corrected. "Just stating a fact! Come on! Let's get you up and out of the street, yeah? We'll get you a sheet or whatever these blokes wear, and you can come have a late breakfast with me."

Vincent sighed. Sounded like as good of a plan as any. He couldn't understand why Zola did this kind of thing! It was damn annoying! And they'd had such a good night last night! A VERY good night... Best not to think about that at breakfast... And by the next morning, he was acting like a stupid flea again! Vincent ranted quite a bit throughout the entire meal, as Charlie regarded him with a patient smile.

"Got me a girl back home, I do," he laughed, once Vincent had finished his tirade and all but face planted into his eggs and toast. "She's a darling thing, but oh can she make the blood boil when she wants to! I guess that's the trouble when you love someone, yeah?" Vincent just smiled at the kind words, before attacking his egg. "What does Zola do when he runs off, anyway?"

"Beats me!" Vincent grumbled. "He was with the Bedouins before this. I think he just likes to wander around. He seems to always know something about everything. My guess would be he likes learning everything there is to know about wherever he is."

"I see..." the tone in Charlie's voice suddenly sounded a bit unhappy. "Vincent, I don't mean to be a bugger, but... don't you think there's something a bit odd about the fellow?"

"Well, of course I do!" Vincent agreed. "He's fucking nuts! You should listen to him wax his weirdo philosophies on life and people! He thinks me and every one else was put here on this god damn planet for his amusement! Sometimes I feel like punching him straight through a wall! Probably learned that from all those retarded schools! I swear to God, people go to school and they think they just know everything!"

"Eh, that's not what I meant..." Charlie scratched his chin, nervously. "I meant, well, do you think he's been telling the truth? About where he's from and why he's here?"

"What are you trying to say?" Vincent narrowed his eyes.

"I mean that, a few of the privates heard him speaking to some of the known Nazi sympathizers in this town, and it didn't sound quite so innocent. Don't you find it a little odd that he can speak fluent Arab coming from Italy, and before that, who knows?"

"No! He's been on the continent a while!" Vincent folded his arms, stubbornly. "He's the best violinist anyone's ever heard, and he told me outright that he was half German! If he is a spy, he's a lousy one! You said it yourself! He sticks out like a sore thumb!"

"He could be using that to his advantage," Charlie reasoned. "It's no secret that he's well liked. But you know as well as I do, Vincent, that war springs up in the blink of an eye, and we can muse and ponder all day long, but if we don't act now, there won't be time to, later."

"I'm not sure I like what you're insinuating..." Vincent glowered, dangerously.

"Easy now, mate," Charlie warned, already seeing the blonde man's muscles twitch. "I won't say anything to my sergeant, but I'm asking you, as a friend and an ally, to be careful. Love is blind."

"Tch! I'm not in love!" Vincent spat, as he rose from the table and threw down a few bills. Charlie grinned at him knowingly, and shrugged.

"And my mother's name ain't Mary."

"Well, I guess it 'ain't'!"

"See you around, mate. Just think about what I said."

Much to his chagrin, that's all Vincent did think about the rest of the day. Uncontrollably, his mind began to file through every question Zola had ever asked and dissect it for indications of espionage. He couldn't say the scale was tipping in his favor. By the time Zola returned late that night, almost tip-toeing into the room and doing his best to look quite remorseful, Vincent had worked himself up into quite a frenzy. He sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing the thawb Charlie had procured for him that morning.

"Ah, Vin-vin! You're still awake, eh?" Zola smiled, and carefully placed his folded pants next to him, smoothing out all of the wrinkles. "There! Good as new!" He smiled brightly, putting his hands on his hips. Vincent didn't reply, keeping his head bowed. "Hmm, Vin-vin seems quite angry," the dark haired man swayed from side to side, ready to quickly hop away in the event Vincent tried to exact revenge for his actions earlier that day. When he still failed to get any sort of answer from the silent man, he sighed and let his arms fall to his side. "It was all in good fun, Vincent! Maybe you should have more than one pair of pants, anyway! And look! I see someone, probably Charlie, was nice enough to let you have some local clothing, so you weren't housebound all day! Why are you-"

Before he could finish, Vincent quickly stood. Zola didn't have time to react before his strong arms reached out and wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him fiercely against his chest. The smaller man patted his arm, silently asking for room to breathe. He could feel the blonde man's heart beating wildly against his chest. When he finally relinquished his grip, Zola peered at him, searchingly. He didn't have to ask; the confusion and worry swirling around in Vincent's mocha colored eyes was answer enough, and the taller man's only outward reply was to slowly touch his lips with his, still holding him tightly. He could feel the musician's body grow limp in his arms and lean against him for support. Never breaking the contact of the kiss, which was quickly turning hungry and needy, he softly laid him down on the bed.

_It couldn't be a lie..._

Zola tugged the white tunic over his head easily, as Vincent unfastened the black garments concealing his slender body.

_It just couldn't be..._

One of Vincent's hands swept down Zola's side, gently massaging his hip with a thumb, as his other hand held his hair, tightly. The smaller man's eyes opened and flashed electrifying blue, as he gasped when the hand moved to his inner thigh. Vincent could feel the body beneath him arch into his touch, and he broke the kiss to bite down harsly at the base of his neck, causing the raven haired man to cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure, his hips bucking more urgently for contact.

"Zola..." Vincent breathed, shutting his eyes and barely touching the tip of the other man's nose with his. "Do you love me?" he whispered.

"What?" Zola gasped, as his quickly hardening length brushed against Vincent's, causing both men to shiver, violently.

"Do you love me?"

"What are you talking about?" the darker haired man laughed in a breathy voice, gripping the larger male's rear and pushing them together with a roll of his hips. Vincent groaned and caught Zola's open mouth in another kiss as he began to slowly grind against him. He could hear the musician's muffled whimpers, and withdrew his lips to kiss and nip at the smaller man's ear.

"Do you love me? Just tell me..." Vincent whispered, peppering his slender neck with light kisses. His hand moved from his thigh to massage the dark haired man's now throbbing need, and Zola moaned loudly, arching his back as he began panting, heavily. "Tell me, and I'll believe you..."

"Hah!" Zola cried, unable to catch his breath. "You...You can't ask me that, now!" he smiled, before another stroke contorted his face with pleasure, and he closed his eyes tightly. "I'd tell you...anything you want to hear..." he panted, once Vincent gave him a chance to breathe.

"I don't care," Vincent growled, nuzzling the underside of his chin with his nose and burying his face, there. "I just want you to say it. I'll believe you." He brought both of his arms up to wrap them tightly around Zola's back, and held him once again in a crushing grip. Zola blinked a moment, before he smiled, warmly. Gently, he pushed his hand against Vincent's shoulder until he rolled on his back, and the smaller man was able to straddle him. Wetting his fingers and taking Vincent's length firmly in his hand, he spread his saliva across the member before he slowly began sinking himself down. The blonde man groaned and threw his head back, holding Zola's hips so tightly, there would be bruises the next morning. He tried with all his might not to move until the smaller man had settled, but he could not stop his lower body from occasionally twitching with desire. Once he had taken him in fully, Zola let out the breath he'd been holding and leaned forward, gently grazing his lips across Vincent's.

"Charlie's got you in quite a tizzy, eh?" he breathed, as he slowly began rocking his hips back and forth. Vincent couldn't answer, his head swimming from the sensations traveling up his spine. "What did he say? That I'm a spy?" One of his eyebrows lifted, as he raised himself halfway up, before letting himself fall against Vincent again. The blonde man let out another groan, and he couldn't stop his hips from bucking into the tight body on top of him. Zola leaned back, riding him as his eyes shut with pleasure. A moment later, he leaned forward again, sucking on Vincent's lower lip as the blonde man continued to thrust into him.

"I don't care what Charlie says," Vincent panted, pulling away and pausing for a moment, as a sheen of sweat began to cover his body. "I care what you say."

"I say...that I'm worse than any spy..." Zola lifted himself almost completely off the larger man's length. "I'm the devil," he breathed, before bringing himself back down, harshly. Vincent arched his back at the maddening sensation and sat up, flipping Zola's slender body over and hooking one of his long legs over his shoulder. Sinking himself in even deeper, they both let out a series of moans, as Vincent completely lost himself in the act. He thrust wildly, pounding into the smaller man who cried out his name and bucked his hips up to meet him, clutching at his broad shoulders as if his life depended on it. Vincent could feel his nails digging into his skin and grunted, as he began stroking Zola's length in unison with his thrusts. Zola almost let out a scream, and quickly threw his arm across his mouth, biting down on it to stifle the noise. A trickle of blood began to run down the length of his forearm to his elbow. Vincent could feel him growing close, as the body under him began to grow rigid, and shutter. His sweat drenched head slumped forward as he gave several more strong thrusts, pausing for a second every time he sheathed himself, completely, causing Zola's body to spasm. With a drawn out moan, the smaller man came, clamping his leg down tightly around Vincent's back as his toes curled, and pushing him deeper inside. Vincent groaned loudly, unable to hold back, as his lover's warm seed filled his hand and his body clamped down tightly around his pulsing member. He came with a violent shudder, pushing himself as far as he could into the the body underneath, before collapsing on top of him, both men breathing heavily. Zola reached forward and kissed Vincent's still tightly shut eyes.

"No matter what happens, you never have to doubt...," he whispered. "That I will always love you, Vincent Scott."

Vincent opened his eyes, and was surprised to see that the deep blue ones staring into his were blinking back tears. "I love you, too," he breathed, unwilling to ever let him go, as he pressed the side of his face against Zola's.

"No matter what happens?"

"Nothing could make me stop loving you."

Zola smiled, sadly, and gently stroked Vincent's blonde hair with his hand. An unseen tear escaped the corner of his eye and traveled slowly down his cheek.

* * *

><p>Shizuo felt like his heart was breaking as he slowly regained consciousness, waking from the dream. They both had wanted so badly for it to be true. He rubbed his tired and groggy eyes and got up for work. He hadn't seen Izaya for a few days, though the informant had called to check on him, occasionally. They'd both been pretty busy with work, and not much headway had been made in finding out more about the two people whom this drama seemed to revolve around. The local libraries held no information, and nothing on the internet had been detailed enough to offer much direction, although Shizuo had learned a lot about World War II he'd never realized before. At least, according to what he read, the Nazi's had never been successful in reaching Cairo, as they had planned. In the end, though their numbers were greater than the British, their supply lines had proven too unsustainable, and they were forced to retreat.<p>

He thought about it throughout the work day until evening rolled around, and Tom and him said their goodbyes and parted ways. If he had to guess, the year that he kept visiting in his sleep must have been 1940 or early 1941, before the attempted invasion began. There would probably be no record of Vincent during that scrimmage, and Shizuo doubted the French Foreign Legion kept tabs on soldiers once they left the service. Their greatest bet seemed to hinge on finding out something about Zola, but, as expected, the deepest, inner workings of the Nazi Regime weren't exactly easy to find information about, and that hadn't been a terribly popular battle, to begin with. He guessed if no one else had been able to figure out the mystery over the past 70 years, it wasn't going to be easy.

"Your face will get stuck that way, if you frown so much, Shizu-chan!" Izaya had appeared next to him, still carrying that cursed violin, but also a folder and a couple of books. Shizuo laughed, and lit a cigarette as he started walking.

"I didn't even hear you come up! What are you, a ninja?"

"I am the morning and the evening star!"

"...Shut the hell up... So, did you find anything?"

Izaya hugged the paper materials tightly to his chest, as he walked beside him. "Shizu-chan! When have I ever given up information for free?" he asked.

"Hm, I dunno. Seeing as I couldn't care less, I suppose you don't have to tell me," Shizuo did his best to sound completely uninterested, as he flicked the ashes off the end of his smoke, and Izaya frowned.

"Don't you want to stop having those dreams?"

"Probably not as bad as you want to get rid of this violin, now."

"Hah! I don't mind carrying it around at all! It's very good exercise!"

"Well, we'll see how you feel a couple of years from now."

"...Brute," the informant muttered, narrowing his eyes and looking down to the ground. "Fine! I'll show you the fruits of my expert researching skills...if you buy me dinner."

Shizuo's eyebrows shot high in the air. He hadn't actually paid for one of Izaya's meals since he was a fox, and something about the idea tickled him. "What? You mean like a date?" he queried, a sly smile spreading across his face. Izaya looked absolutely horrified.

"No, not like a date! It's a simple exchange! How dare you accuse me of ulterior motives! Meals have been used as payment throughout human history!...And I'm hungry!" Izaya scoffed, though he wouldn't meet Shizuo's eyes. Shizuo chuckled and ruffled Izaya's hair. He loved finding reasons to do that. It was very soft.

"Okay, flea! Don't get your panties in a bunch; I was just joking," he laughed. Izaya swatted his hand away and held his nose high in the air, walking a little ahead.

"I've changed my mind," he sniffed. "I've important work to do and really can't spare any of my precious time for neanderthals, today."

"You can't even spare some time for... ootoru?"

Izaya paused, and turned his head to peer over his shoulder. "Ootoru?"

Shizuo reached into his wallet and drew out a coupon for Russia Sushi, and he could see Izaya's eyes begin to shine. He crinkled the paper between his fingertips, and quirked a brow. Izaya spun around on his heels, happily, and fell back in step with the body guard, flinging the violin out, pointing forward. "Quickly, Shizu-chan, before all of their best fish is gone! MUSH!"

Shizuo chuckled, and quickened his pace. It was only a few blocks away, and Simon greeted them at the door.

"Izaya! Shizuo! Welcome!"

"Hey, Simon," Shizuo waved, as they walked past them. Izaya eyed him, coolly, and said nothing.

"Izaya! Why you carry so much? Ooooh, a violin? How wonderful! Did not realize you were a musician!"

"Personal project, Simon!" Izaya smiled brightly enough, but Shizuo could tell from his posture and tone of voice that the informant was nervous. He even hurried to get past the black Russian, as if trying to escape. Shizuo smiled, sympathetically. Even after all this time, Simon and Anja still spooked him, and he could understand to a certain degree.

"We're doing a little history project," the blonde elaborated as Izaya skated past. "We'll let you know how it turns out."

"Ah, good! By the way, Anja was looking for you!"

Shizuo paused. "What? Why? Is something wrong?" Simon laughed and shook his head.

"I know not. You speak to her, yes? Here, she give me address." Simon handed Shizuo a small piece of paper, which he accepted.

"Thanks, Simon. We'll drop by." They continued inside and sat at a small table, whereupon Izaya let the shiver he'd been holding back run down his spine, and proceeded to pick up a menu. "Still makes you uncomfortable, huh?"

"I don't get it," Izaya muttered, letting the menu obscure his face. "How can they know so much just by looking and touching things... It's creepy, not to mention unfair. I jump through quite a few hoops to know what I know."

Shizuo shrugged, letting his chin rest against his hand. "I don't think it really holds a candle to what you do. Anja and Simon don't know a lot. They just have impulses. There's a difference."

"Hmm," Izaya hummed, slapping the menu down. "Your words have placated me, and now I'm ready for a drink!" He called out an order for Saki to the bar, which was acknowledged with a nod.

"You never order drinks out in public," Shizuo commented.

"I do now! It's a special occasion! Take a look at this!" He flipped open one of his books to a tab he had marked and practically threw it in front of Shizuo with a loud thump. Shizuo stopped breathing. It was an English book, so he couldn't read much of the page, but he knew the person in the picture to the right all too well.

"God..." he mumbled, taking the book in hand.

"I'd like to introduce you to Ansgar Folke," Izaya said, proudly. Shizuo didn't even hear the name, he was so focused on the picture. He couldn't believe it. It was one thing to see a face in your dreams; it was quite another to see it in black and white on the page of a library book. He was standing quite a distance from the camera, but even so, it was undeniably him.

"It's Zola..." Shizuo muttered, almost dreamily. Izaya frowned.

"Before you jump aboard the ship to dreamland, don't you notice anything else about the picture," he asked, rather flatly. Shizuo furrowed his eyebrows at him, before studying the picture in more detail. What he was wearing was certainly not anything his dreams had depicted. Black polished, knee high boots reflected the light, as did the buttons and buckles which adorned the long, gray frock he wore. Also, he stood in front of a row of what appeared to be smartly dressed soldiers with two older men. The three of them had sabers, upon which Zola rested his hand as he gazed, stonily, across the faces in front of him. In fact, the more Shizuo looked at his expression and posture, the more he began to second guess himself. The man in the picture was so stiff, and rigid, and had a terrifying look of cold indifference on his face. It seemed so far removed from the lively and graceful person Shizuo knew him to be.

"He looks really cold..." Shizuo commented, more than a little perplexed.

"A lead agent of Abwehr would be," Izaya retorted, snatching the book up and closing it with a snap. "Really, Shizu-chan! I mean, sure there weren't swastikas everywhere, but wow!"

"So he was a Nazi, huh? What's 'Abwehr', then?" Shizuo asked.

"It was the department of German intelligence, and you were looking at one of their top ranking members!"

Shizuo tried in his mind to reconcile the image he'd just seen with the person he'd become almost intimately acquainted with in his dreams and found that even he was having a hard time. He began unconsciously shaking his head. "I just can't believe that... It must be a look alike."

"Oh, I don't think so," Izaya chuckled, dryly. He flipped to another part of the book. "Ansgar Z. Folke, as in Ansgar Zola Folke. Zola was his baptized name." Shizuo looked at him quizzically, and Izaya waved him off. "It's some Christian, religious practice that used to be common in Western Europe, but why so shocked, Shizu-chan?"

"I dunno...I mean, he wasn't exactly nice, but I didn't think he could really be anything like that..." Shizuo frowned, and Izaya threw him a rather amused smirk.

"You haven't read quite as much about his upbringing. Rising to his rank in the Nazi Regime was no easy feat for a half blood, believe me. He was expertly skilled both with a sword and a pistol, and make no mistake that his body count, innocent or not, was very, very high. People aren't who we think they are, hm?"

Shizuo didn't reply. He didn't want to admit how much Izaya resembled Zola, and just how much that now scared him. Apparently, it was possible to care deeply for someone and be a terrible person on the side. Shizuo honestly couldn't say he'd still love Izaya the same way if he found out that he'd helped carry out some of the most horrific acts in the history of humanity. The worst part was, he couldn't even truly deny Izaya's seemingly bizarre lack of empathy.

"I guess not," he eventually agreed, quietly. "Are you related to him after all, then?" God, he hoped not. He didn't need another concrete reason to feel doubtful about his best friend.

"First cousin, twice removed," Izaya replied simply. "His father was German, but his mother was definitely Japanese. Ah! I see our drinks at the counter!" He jumped from his seat to fetch them, and Shizuo just let his head flop against his arms on the table.

"Shizu-chan, did your imaginary puppy die again?" Izaya sighed, as he clanked a small, Saki glass in front of him, and poured the drink.

"You know? I think it did..."

"Ugh, so depressing!" he quickly downed a glass and let his fist drop to the table with a thud. "Why must you depress me so?"

"Got a lot on my mind."

"I'm sure falling in love with people who died over fifty years ago must be very hard on you."

Shizuo just blinked at the latent animosity behind his abnormally monotonous tone. What the hell?

"What the hell?" the blonde quirked his eyebrows, too surprised to sound angry. Izaya couldn't answer, as he was busy downing another drink. Shizuo hadn't even touched his, yet. Izaya sighed, loudly, and smacked his lips as he let the glass fall. It was not lost on Shizuo that he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. He suddenly felt like laughing! It was truly the first time he'd seen the informant be so clueless, and it was kind of adorable. Shizuo suddenly smirked, and rested his chin against his palm. Izaya's eyes flickered to him, momentarily, before quickly glancing away as he poured yet another round.

"Yes, I'd find it funny too, if I were insane enough to be smitten with some person whose remains have probably, completely decayed by now."

Shizuo frowned. Although he didn't really know what to think about Zola, he certainly didn't want to think about his rotting corpse. That was a rather low blow... And Izaya wasn't really one to stoop so low...

"Sounds like your jealous or something, flea," Shizuo reasoned, finally taking a sip of his drink.

Izaya merely let out a loud "HAH!" at that, before consuming another shot of Saki, and Shizuo chuckled, pleased that he was able to see through the initial, verbal decoy to the heart of the issue, and pleased to know that Izaya, though he'd never admit it outright, was at least a little selfish of his attention. The mood between them almost immediately eased, and they both let out a contented sigh. Simon brought them a mix of sushi from the bar, most of which were ootoru, and Izaya happily plucked away at the dish, his cheeks quite flushed from the alcohol. "Oddly enough," he said around his mouthful, "I didn't find anything on a Scott."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Shizuo sighed. "Guess that was a fake name then, huh? It's kind of weird that the spy used his real name."

"Eh, not uncommon for Americans to change their last name, especially when they run off and join the foreign legion...but maybe you could ask Anja about it? When you go see her, tonight? She might know a way to find out the information I can't access."

"I think she'd have an easier time if you and the violin came along," Shizuo reasoned. "I mean, that's generally how those types of things work. Maybe if she held the violin, she could see more of their history, and where they wound up." Izaya looked away, chewing a bit more slowly. Shizuo knew he didn't like the idea, but was currently battling his curiosity. "Hey, just cause you tried to bite her, it's not like she's going to bite you, you know?"

"Tch! I know that!"

"And she was on your side when I was in a coma, remember?"

"...What?"

Shizuo's blood ran cold for a second, as the realization of what he'd just let slip dawned on him. "I mean, wasn't she? Shinra mentioned the little argument you all had..." he tried to cover. To his dismay, Izaya sat up, stiffly, and stared at him with a pained look. Shizuo almost face palmed. By covering for one thing he never wanted to bring up, he had just traded it for a different taboo topic. Izaya seemed to prefer to forget about that time, and he'd just painfully reminded him of when they were both pretty sure he was going to die. "Eh, but whatever! Let's drink!" he laughed, a little nervously, raising his glass. Izaya slowly slumped in his chair, his face cast downward. Shizuo began to mentally panic a bit. "Oi, flea, don't get all down! I didn't mean to bring it up! As if anything like that could kill a neanderthal like me, right? I'll stop moping, I promise, just-"

"I really thought..."

"Huh?"

"I really thought you were going to die..." Izaya barely whispered. The way he said it made Shizuo's heart twinge, and he had to fight the compulsion to reach his hand out to grab Izaya's. They'd yet to bring it up, after all the time that had passed. The informant's auburn eyes flickered to his for a moment, and Shizuo could see the pent up emotion swirling within them. Suddenly, all the worries he'd had moments ago completely evaporated, and he was shamed for even thinking them. Izaya was nothing like Zola. Shizuo knew that Izaya would never forsake him. Hesitantly, he did reach out his hand and gently pat Izaya's.

"I'm right here, flea. Don't let the alcohol affect you so much. Someone needs to stick around to look out for your dumb ass, so I'm not going anywhere," he smiled, which Izaya soon reflected. "And I'm not in love with a dead person!" he quickly added, grimacing a bit. "That's just weird!"

"Ah, but Shizu-chan's in love with somebody..." Izaya grinned, ruefully. "It's been all over your face for weeks."

The thought of telling him the truth flickered across the body guard's mind, but it quickly vanished. A crowded sushi bar with a slightly tipsy Izaya just didn't seem like the proper setting, and Shizuo knew better than to go against his gut. He tossed his head instead, with an indignant, "Heh! Are you a psychic, now?"

"Don't have to be one. It's impossible for you to hide your emotions, especially from me. I can practically read your mind; no magic required."

"Okay, what am I thinking right now, then?" Shizuo smiled. Izaya gazed at him, intently, before quickly turning his head to the side, as his cheeks began to redden. Awe, now he had him flustered! Perfect time to poke a little fun at him! Instead of using his words, Shizuo gave the informant's foot a little tap, sending the startled informant almost flying out of his chair. Before he made a scene, Izaya quickly straightened his jacket and scowled at him, taking his seat once more.

"That was naughty, Shizu-chan," he drawled, narrowing his eyes. The alcohol was definitely getting to him at this point. Shizuo just grinned, triumphantly.

"Scaredy flea," he teased. "You're scared of my foot, and you're scared of little old ladies who only want to help you."

"Argh! Fine! I'll come with you on your silly, little visit! But if something screwy happens, you will SO owe me!"

"Screwier than haunted violins?"

Izaya frowned and held up his middle finger. "...Fuc-"

"Agreed!"

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><p><strong>Woot-woot! That's all folks! Hope everyone liked it, and that the love scene wasn't too painful. I just felt like it was important. There's a pretty intense scene in the next chapter, and I hope everyone stays tuned! Actually...the rest of the story from the end of the next chapter is going to be a roller coaster ride of sorts. ^o^ Thank you for reading! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi, all. This chapter's a little shorter than originally intended. Honestly, it was because I was considering changing some things in the next chapter, but if I added it all, it would have been far too long. So, I nipped it short. **

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><p>"Izaya! Shizuo! Welcome!"<p>

"God, what is she? Simon's albino sister?" Izaya mumbled, feeling a headache coming on from all the Saki he'd consumed. Shizuo just pushed him forward into the apartment doorway as Anja gestured them forward.

"Come in, come in! Please, have a seat!"

They both accepted her offer and sat down on the aged, but well kept couch, which seemed to be the largest piece of furniture in the rather small living room. Shizuo glanced about, as he leaned back into the cushions. It seemed to be about the same size as his apartment, but very crowded in comparison. Anja, it appeared, was a bit of a pack rat, and had many strange oddities cluttered about. Shizuo saw stacks of books piled in the corner, most in a language he could not read, and there were many bits and pieces of rocks and geodes strewn across the mantel, accompanied by statues of varying sizes, most of whom Shizuo did not recognize. Small crystals dangled from the light fixture, casting rainbows across the walls. They both jumped at a squawk from the corner behind them, and turned to see a small parrot perched on the curtain rod.

"What did that guy do?" Izaya asked, sarcastically, as he nodded his head in the bird's direction.

"Oh, Izaya! So funny!" she laughed, clapping her hands. "Is no human. Come here, Peter!" she called, holding out her arm. The bird, with another horrid squawk that made both men startle again, flew to her. "You go home now, yes?"

"Yes?" the bird repeated, bobbing it's head up and down. "Snack?"

"Later, Peter. You, home, now!" Peter squawked again, and flew out of the room. Anja shook her head. "That bird! More like pig! He will stay in cage, now. Ah, I so glad you are both here! There someone I much like to introduce you both too." At the quizzical looks she received, she continued, "My niece here to stay with me."

"Hooray..." Izaya mumbled, folding his arms and leaning back along with Shizuo. For his part, the bodyguard just tried to be extra polite.

"Sounds great. And you have a very nice home, Anja," Shizuo smiled. "You sure must read a lot."

"Oh, yes! I do, I do! But books not what you here for, yes? You want me to have look at something?" she smiled, knowingly. Izaya cast an annoyed, sideways glance at Shizuo, as the blonde man cleared his throat.

"Actually, Anja, we're having a bit of a predicament. Izaya came into possession of this violin," he pointed to the case near the informant's feet. "And it seems to be haunted."

Anja looked curiously at the case, and reached out her hands. Without a word, Izaya picked it up off the floor and placed it in her open palms. Looking it over, curiously, a moment, Anja popped the locks on the edges and opened the case. She stared down at the smooth and polished wood, inhaling, deeply and seemingly reluctant to even touch it. "Oh, Izaya..." she whispered, almost awestruck. "Where you find this?"

"In an estate sale from an online ad, but they didn't want to sell it. They just wanted to give it away...why?"

"Is very sad, sad thing..." she sighed again, and her blue eyes glanced up at Shizuo. "Is not haunted...Sometimes, when people feel very strongly, they leave feelings behind on things when they die." She slowly lifted the violin out of its case and turned it to the side. Shizuo could suddenly see a few dark spots that he'd never noticed, before. From the look on Izaya's face next to him, the informant hadn't seen the spots, either. Unless one was staring directly at it, the tiny splatters might appear to be a bad varnishing job, or perhaps water damage. The sinking feeling in Shizuo's stomach told him that it was neither.

"Is that...blood?" Izaya wondered, his eyes wide.

"Yes," Anja nodded.

"Whose?" Shizuo croaked, his voice suddenly very dry.

Anja didn't reply. She gently placed the violin back in it's case, closing the clasps once more and handing it back to Izaya with a frown. Shizuo and Izaya frowned with her. "These feelings are very bad. We must find reason behind the bad feelings, only then can we soothe them."

"What happens if we can't?" Shizuo pressed. Izaya looked at him a bit peevishly, clearly not wanting to hear about that part.

"I cannot say for certain. I no feel a curse, but I have been wrong before... But no worry so much!" she quickly added at the completely doomed look on the informant's face. "We will figure something out, yes?"

"Did you see anything?" Shizuo pressed. "Anything at all? I've been having dreams, but I don't know what happens at the end."

Anja shook her head. "I see very little. I feel pain, as you do. I also feel darkness. But Shizuo, you seem to have calming effect," the old woman mused.

"Me? I do?"

"Yes! The nearer you are to violin, the more I feel its energy quiet. It recognize something in you, hm?" Izaya threw up his hands and let out an agitated sigh.

"It'll be the latest reality show! The violin charmer! Riveting!"

"Shut up, flea!" Shizuo warned. "This is serious!"

"I am serious!" Izaya insisted. "You'll change your mind once we make millions!" If he had tried, the informant could not have made his voice any more sarcastic.

"What the f-...HELL, Izaya? I didn't ask for this, you know? You're the one who went and picked up the stupid violin!"

"That loves you and apparently wants me to die!"

"Boys!" Anja chided. They both obediently turned their heads toward her and shut their mouths. "No fighting! Izaya, the violin not want to kill you! It just have bad feelings."

"Well, what can we do?" Shizuo asked.

Anja rubbed her chin, thoughtfully. "We could...ask master of violin... I feel his spirit linked to it."

"You mean...?" Shizuo didn't even feel like he could say his name right now. "But how?"

"Three of us, four together with my niece, could possibly call spirit from other side."

"Are you suggesting a séance?" Izaya blinked. "Here? Now?"

"Yeah, Anja, I dunno if that's such a good idea..."

Anja nodded, though she didn't fully understand their shared concern. "It may be risky..."

"As in...screwy?"

"Flea!" Shizuo warned.

"Risky, because I know not how spirit will behave. Feelings were imparted at time of death, and I uncertain how spirit remains affected. But, I fear is only way to know for sure."

Shizuo looked to Izaya, whose face had grown very pale. After a moment of reflection, the informant silently nodded to him, and Shizuo turned to Anja. "Okay, just tell us what to do."

"As soon as my niece returns, we begin. Four is better than three, yes?"

Shizuo didn't really know, but either way, not much time was spent waiting. The blonde man had been silently praying that Anja's niece would walk through the door as soon as possible, lest Izaya back out of the plan, and thankfully, as soon as the sun had set, a pretty and young blonde woman unlocked the front door, carrying a bag full of groceries.

"Tyotia!" she cried. "You didn't tell me we were having visitors!" She tossed her keys on a side table, and walked toward them.

"Ah!" Anja smiled, brightly. "Vorona, this Shizuo and Izaya. I tell you they come by soon, no?"

"Yeah, but I thought you were just trying to bedazzle me with your magic, again," Vorona laughed, shaking her head. She gripped the bag in one hand and reached out a slender arm toward Shizuo. "Hi, I'm Vorona. It's nice to meet you. Tyo- Auntie talks so much about you."

"Yeah, hi," Shizuo said, somewhat awkwardly, as he took her hand. Izaya was quick to jump directly beside him, bumping him to the side.

"So, Vorona, ready for a séance?" he practically chirped. Shizuo glanced down at him and noted he was smiling his very wide, very creepy smile. Poor girl. She really should have tried to shake his hand first.

"A what, now?" the woman raised her eyebrows and glanced suspiciously at her aunt, who seemed to suddenly be looking everywhere except at her relative.

"I think I make tea, first..." the older woman mumbled, scooting off toward the kitchen.

"Tyotia! What the hell is going on?" Vorona dropped the bag to the couch and, after rolling up the sleeves to her white blouse, put her hands on her hips, her golden, bangle bracelets jingling with the sharp motion.

"N-nothing! Well, maybe little something," Anja tried to explain, holding up her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate just how little. Vorona's frown deepened, and Izaya barked a laugh.

"Vorona! No need to look so upset! We're only summoning the spirit of possibly one of the most ruthless Nazis who ever lived!"

"W-WHAT?"

"Shut up, flea!" Shizuo practically slapped him up the side of his head. "You know this is the only way to help! Why are you making this harder than it has to be?"

"Because you're just so damn lovable!" Izaya yelled, before stalking off to the kitchen. Both the women in the room immediately looked at Shizuo, who was currently gaping like a fish out of water.

"Um...well...ahem!" Shizuo cleared his throat, not really knowing what that was all about. "Maybe we should get started?"

"Oh, no!" Vorona shook her head. "I want no part of this hocus-pocus nonsense. You have fun. I'll just wait here in the living room until you're finished."

"But Anja says it'll work better with four people! Please Miss Vorona! My friend can be kind of a jerk, but he's in really big trouble if we don't get to the bottom of this!"

"The bottom of what?"

"It's the violin. It's cursed," Shizuo said, his voice grave.

Vorona's eyes flickered to the violin case on the floor. "Looks pretty normal to me, and your friend seems spunky enough. All he's suffering from is denial."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!" Shizuo roared, taking a step forward and balling his fist.

"That he's obviously in love with you!" Vorona yelled back. "And I think that's just fine! Hooray for gay love! Power and rainbows to you, but I'm not helping you encourage my aunt with these silly notions!"

"You don't know anything about us!"

"Please!" Anja cut in. "Such mental energy would be better spent summoning owner of the violin, yes?" They both stopped, but stared angrily at one another. "Vorona, I know you no believe. You no have to sit with us."

"Yeah, we don't want you there, now, anyway!" Shizuo barked.

"Oh, I'll be there!" Vorona challenged. "I'll be there letting you all know just how stupid you are!"

"Why you little-" Shizuo reached for her just as Izaya finally came padding back from the kitchen, and upon the sight, immediately took the nearest vase and threw it against Shizuo's head, shattering it. "Argh!" Shizuo brought a hand to his injured head, and growled.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Shizu-chan!" he warned, pointing an accusing finger. Vorona almost started laughing before his finger swung in her direction. "Shut up, whore!"

"Wait, what?" Vorona cried. "You had better watch it! I'll fucking knock your head off your shoulders!"

There was a flash of steel as Izaya drew a knife. "Bring it, bitch!" he smiled, dangerously. All of the anger immediately left Shizuo, as he realized blood was about to spill. Feeling the same tension, Anja gripped his arm in concern. Not knowing what else to do, he quickly grabbed Izaya by the hood of his coat, just as the informant lunged, suspending him in mid air. Vorona took a step back, her blue eyes wide with surprise and anger.

"Okay, I think we all need a time out..." Shizuo reasoned, awkwardly, as Izaya flailed in his grip, slashing wildly in her direction.

"Let me go, neanderthal!" he warned. "I will cut your grabby little hands off!"

Shizuo's reply was to give him a firm shake. "You need to settle down! It wasn't what you thought!"

"It most certainly was NOT!" Vorona huffed, folding her arms.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Shizuo asked, a little offended.

"Means you're the bitch in your relationship, obviously! And I don't date bitches!"

"What the- ACK!" Shizuo quickly plucked the knife Izaya had flung back to throw in her general direction with his free hand.

"How about tea, now?" Anja asked, hopefully.

Vorona sighed. "Okay, truce?"

Shizuo put Izaya back down on the floor, and the informant dusted himself off. "Tea sounds lovely. Let's get this shit over with. I never want to see you again!" he hissed at the blonde woman.

"The feeling is more than mutual, Little Lord Fauntleroy."

"Stupid c-"

"VORONA! Help me get tea, yes?"

Izaya grinned at her as, Vorona heaved a sigh. "Fine."

A half hour later, after the tea had been drunk, they were seated around Anja's small, kitchen table, with the violin placed prominently in the center. Anja held her purple, billowy sleeve back as she lit two wax candles on both ends of the table. Shizuo and Izaya sat on one side while she and Vorona sat on the other. For her part, Vorona was already looking bored, as she tipped back in her chair.

"Don't we have to dim the lights or something?" Shizuo asked. He thought that was the usual way things proceeded. Anja blinked at him, curiously.

"What for?" she asked.

"Because it's creepier that way..." Izaya muttered, already trying to hide how nervous he was. Shizuo, himself, wasn't quite as scared. He'd seen enough of Zola to know not to fear him. He put a hand on Izaya's, currently, bouncing knee to still it and hopefully calm him. Instead, it had quite the opposite effect, so he quickly withdrew his hand and decided to use his words, instead.

"Nothing bad's gonna happen to you," he comforted, folding his arms so that his hand wouldn't sneak over to his knee again.

"Oh, come on!" Vorona sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're not actually scared, are you? Nothing's even going to happen!"

Shizuo, Izaya, and Anja all shared a glance, and neither of them were willing to take her up on that statement. She would see, soon enough. Anja gripped her hand firmly, and held out her other to Izaya. With much hesistation, the informant took it tightly in his grip, snatching up Shizuo's other hand. Shizuo immediately bit back the enormous smile threatening to consume his face, and decided to distract himself by grabbing his least favorite person in the room's hand...which would be Vorona's at the moment. He heaved a heavy sigh and waited for Anja to begin. The old woman closed her eyes, and began mumbling. What she said, no one could hear. Shizuo looked about the room, anxiously. His heart rate sped up when the candles began to flicker, but it was impossible to tell if it was the air flow in the room, or something else. After half an hour of Anja's quiet chanting, Izaya startling at every noise, and Vorona's sighing, Shizuo was beginning to think Vorona may have been right. As if reading his mind, Vorona piped up.

"Ready to admit how dumb this is, yet?"

"Argh!" Anja let out a frustrated grunt. "I not know what wrong... This spirit very hard to call... I think he no want to come..."

There was silence around the table for a moment. Shizuo furrowed his eyebrows. So, Zola was being difficult? Why was he not surprised? He was amazed that people could retain their characteristics so well in death. "We need to find something else to draw him here," he finally decided, voicing his opinion out loud.

Anja nodded. "But what, Shizuo?"

Shizuo only had to think a moment, before he looked at Izaya. The informant's eyes had been darting around before settling on Shizuo's. At first, his eyebrows shot up in question, but Shizuo could see a mental process play out over his face, before a deep frown settled there. "You want me to...?" Shizuo nodded his head. Izaya took a deep breath, and with shaking hands, reached out for the violin. "I don't know if I can," his voice was unusually honest, and shook a little, unable to belie his fear.

"Just try," Shizuo nodded. "If anything could bring him here, it's that song."

Izaya swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly removed the violin from his case. Still trembling, he brought the bow up and tentatively began to drag it across the strings. He only succeeded in making the violin shriek, angrily, as he was far too shaky to properly play. Everyone covered their ears from the pain, but Izaya grit his teeth and willed his hands to still. Suddenly, those sad and familiar notes began to seep into Shizuo's ears, but this time, it was different. Before, Izaya had slipped here and there, making many mistakes, but now, his playing quickly transformed into almost exactly as Shizuo had heard it in his dreams. Beautiful and haunting, Izaya closed his eyes and let the bow dance across the strings, almost effortlessly. Vorona's mouth fell open in shock at the performance, as Anja began to quietly chant, anew. Shizuo was far too distracted with the sight of the dark haired man, swaying to the music he played, at his side. With his rusty colored eyes closed, it was impossible to tell the difference between them, and Shizuo's mind flickered between his dreams and reality just as the candle flames danced wildly on the table. He didn't notice that as Izaya played, the lights in the room dimmed, and the windows grew dark, as if they had been boarded shut. Vorona was looking around, frantically, and she gripped Shizuo's hand so hard, it almost hurt.

"What the hell is going on?" she said in an unsteady voice. Her tone brought Shizuo out of his trance, and he looked about at the unstable lighting and sudden darkness pervading the room. He felt a cold chill running down his body, and noticed with a jolt, that as he exhaled, his breath came out in a frosty stream. Suddenly, time seemed to slow, and his eyes almost lazily dragged over Izaya's elbow, slowly bending as he continued to play, over to Anja, who was still chanting, and Vorona, who had let go of his hand and was gripping the table with a panicked look, as if she'd flee at any moment. Feeling almost drugged, a sudden movement in the far corner of the room caught his eye. Looking over the women's shoulders, he could barely make out a black silhouette, slowly rising from the floor. A shiver ran down Izaya's spine, and he slowly lowered the violin and opened his eyes in the direction Shizuo was looking. Noting both of their blank stares over her head, Vorona quickly twisted in her chair before falling out of her seat in shock. "Oh, shit!" she breathed, scrambling backward. "Who is that?"

"It's Zola," Shizuo confirmed, before the dark figure began advancing towards them. The summoned man walked with his back perfectly straight, taking long and confident strides. Every time the heel of his boot struck the wooden floor, everyone in the room, except for Anja, who was still concentrating, heavily, jumped.

Walking into the circle of candle light, the man who stood before them looked exactly like the picture from the history book. He stood taller than Shizuo remembered from his dreams, and his presence imposed an overwhelming kind of suffocation, as if no one in the world held power as he did. The blonde man could hear the creak of the spirit's leather gloves, as his grip tightened on the saber to his side, and his burning, icy eyes swept over the scene before him. His hair was slicked back, a few stray, black strands splaying from beneath his cap across his extremely pale forehead. Blood covered the left side of his face, and as he turned his head to gaze at the violin in Izaya's hands, Shizuo realized with a shock that there was a large and gaping hole through his temple. His black, leather boots flashed as he came to an abrupt halt in front of Vorona on the floor.

"Why have you called me here?" Shizuo couldn't tell if Zola was actually speaking out loud, or if he was just able to see the question within his mind. Feelings of bitterness and anger were rolling off him in waves so strong, it was enough to make the blonde man feel as if he were choking. Zola's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, as he held his hand aloft, before sweeping it to the side. With a yelp, Vorona's entire body flew in the direction of his hand, crashing into the cabinets under the sink and clearing a path straight to Izaya. "My violin... You were playing...?" his hardened stare softened for a moment, and Shizuo felt a remorse and longing that cut to the bone, before the look in Zola's eyes turned positively murderous, as they bore holes into Izaya's large, auburn ones. With a movement so quick, it was barely distinguishable, Zola drew his saber. "How did you know that song?" he demanded. Shizuo instantly knew, as Zola started forward again, that the informant was in grave danger. He was already half standing from the excitement, and quickly put himself between the two distant relations. Zola immediately drew his saber back, to either run his heart through or spill his guts, Shizuo had no doubt, when the ghost's eyes settled on his face. The saber fell to the floor with a clatter, and Zola stumbled back, clenching his fists, as recognition flitted across his features. Suddenly, his rigid posture dissipated, and he was the person the body guard had come to know so well through the eyes of Vincent. Shizuo must have looked more similar to the blonde man from his dreams than he thought. "Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered, clenching his face in his gloves, as if he'd been injured. Shizuo held out his hands in a calming gesture.

"We're not trying to torment you, Zola," he said, quietly. "We're trying to help you. We need to know what happened."

"You know what happened!" the ghost thundered so loudly that the room shook violently, causing all the pictures to fall from the walls and pots from the stove in a violent cacophony of shattered glass and clattering steel. "You stupid FUCK!"

He sounded angry, but Shizuo could sense the underlying grief behind his bitter words. He took a small step forward, still shielding Izaya behind him. "Please, Zola, I don't know what happened! I'm not Vincent! I need you to tell me what happened!"

"Why didn't you just leave?" If there was any doubt as to whether or not Zola was actually speaking, it was long gone. His voice shrieked so loudly, it was earsplitting, and he was obviously not hearing anything Shizuo had to say. "Why? WHY?" he began pacing back and forth across the floor in extreme agitation. "I tried! I tried to save you! And what did you do? You stupid fuck!" the ghost began to sob, shaking his head and sweeping his arm across the counter, knocking every appliance and glass to the floor. Vorona quickly moved out of the way of his rampage, huddling in a corner and shaking in fear. The more emotional Zola became, the more the ground beneath their feet began to tremble.

"Zola!" Shizuo cried, catching his footing on the shifting floor. "Zola, stop! You have to listen to me!"

"I LOVED YOU!" Zola screamed, causing all of the windows to instantly shatter as he hunched forward in the most agonizing kind of pain. Unable to stand the wild emotions rampaging through him any longer, Shizuo moved forward and gripped both of the ghost's shoulders in his hands, feeling the icy sting of death streak through his fingertips to his core. Upon his contact, the dead man slumped in his grasp and began to cry. The entire room began to fluctuate wildly, as if it would collapse at any moment. "You said you'd never stop loving me!" Zola's face hung low, as he quietly sobbed. "And you lied... And it's all my fault... It's all my..." Shizuo grimaced, the morose feelings tearing at his chest, and he brought his hand to Zola's chin, tilting his distraught face toward him once more.

"Shizuo!" Izaya cried, not knowing what the bodyguard was doing. Shizuo didn't quite know himself, but he went with his first instinct, the one thing he was sure would calm the raging spirit. Without giving himself time to second guess, Shizuo lowered his face and quickly pressed his lips against Zola's. Startled, the ghost stilled, as the coldness of his lips seared Shizuo's warm and living skin. A strange numbness spread across face and down his spine, until soon, the blonde man could no longer feel anything at all. He closed his eyes as everything around him began to fade. From far away, he could hear Izaya frantically calling his name, but he was unable to answer, as he felt himself falling.

"Why... Why can't you forgive me...?" The question flitted across Shizuo's mind as if he himself had thought it, though he knew better.

"Show me, Zola," he mentally implored as they both sank into a strange darkness. "Show me what happened..."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay, guys. I was sick and out of town and all sorts of things this past week. I will try to post another chapter on Sunday.**

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><p>"How many sheep do you think we should buy?" Vincent had been busying himself at the small desk in the room, drawing numerous sketches of the ranch he fully intended to build upon his return to the States.<p>

"I really couldn't say," Zola shrugged, looking anything but interested. He sat cross legged on the bed, nervously plucking at one of the strings on his violin. "How about two thousand?"

"Two thousand!" Vincent's eyes grew large. "Wow, I'd better reconfigure this fenceline, here!" he laughed, and he quickly began erasing and rubbing away the graphite from the smudged page. Zola offered him a weak smile, and shook his head.

"Maybe we'd better sleep on that," he offered, "before you set it in stone."

"I'm too excited to sleep!" Vincent leapt from the desk and jumped on the bed, causing Zola to bounce upwards before grabbing both of his slender hands away from his instrument. "I can't believe you're coming back with me!"

Zola blinked, and smiled again, gripping his hands, gently. "Why is it so hard to believe?" he asked with a small chuckle. If Vincent had not been quite so high on life, he may have noticed how forced it was.

"I don't know! It's because...well, it just makes me so damn happy!" he smiled his large and silly grin. "I'm so happy that you're with me. I used to be afraid that you'd go away, that one day I'd wake up, and you'd be gone or something..." he frowned, and then shook his head. "But here you are, and you're coming back to America with me! That means a lot. I wouldn't go, otherwise." Zola turned his head away, still smiling a little sadly. "Hey, are you okay? You've been awfully quiet for, well, you, tonight." Vincent let his hand fall on his shoulder with concern, and Zola took hold of it, and yanked him forward into a tight embrace.

"I'm fine..." he whispered next to the blonde man's ear, "You don't have to worry about anything."

"I worry about you, all the time," Vincent huffed, nuzzling the side of his face into the one next to it. "And you've been wandering around a lot more than usual, lately... Something's wrong, and you're not telling me..."

"So you're saying that your smart now, hm?" Zola grinned. Vincent only gripped him more tightly.

"Shut up, you stupid, sand flea!"

The smaller man sighed. "Such an attractive nick-name..."

"You're small and annoying and impossible to get rid of! Like a stupid sand flea!" Vincent nodded with conviction. Zola chuckled.

"You're so dumb..."

"Tch!" Vincent released him and drew a rolled cigarette out of his back pocket, walking to the window so the smoke would not bother his companion so much. Zola looked back down at his hands.

"What time are you leaving, tomorrow?" he asked, as he began to unwind his bow to put it away.

"I guess seven thirty ought to be early enough. They probably won't get to the check point until one or two, anyway. Don't put your violin away!" Zola startled and glanced up at him, questioningly, and Vincent grinned, sheepishly. "I dunno, it's just that, I'll be gone all day tomorrow and we're leaving, soon...I may not get to hear you play again for a long time."

"Ah..." Zola gave a resigned sigh and re-tightened his bow strings. "And what would the master have me play?" he smirked, a coyness creeping into his voice.

"You know what!" Vincent rolled his eyes. "That song! Hell, I don't know the name! The one you always play!"

Zola laughed again, and brought the violin to his chin. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then began the same tune that Vincent never grew tired of hearing. However, he couldn't help but notice that tonight, it was a little slower, perhaps a little sadder than usual. He felt the familiar feeling of tears stinging his eyes, as he let his vision wander over what he thought had to be the most angelic sight in the entire world. For the first time in his young life, Vincent felt at peace. He didn't have to wander the globe, anymore; he'd found the greatest wonder there was to behold, and he was bringing it home. Nothing could ever make him happier. With a contented sigh, Vincent flicked his finished cigarette out the window, and quickly crossed the room. No sooner had Zola tucked the violin away than he was caught up in another hug.

"Quite the sentimental thing, tonight, Vin-Vin," the dark haired man tsked.

"I love you, Zola," Vincent whispered, burying his face into his soft, black hair, completely ignoring his light teasing.

"I love you, too..."

Every time he said it, the larger man thought his heart would explode, and he knew it was more than evident how fast it began to beat. "No matter what!" he affirmed from a conversation that seemed so long ago.

"No matter what... Now get some rest. Can't have you sleep guiding the soldiers in tomorrow, can we?"

"Ugh! I can't!" Vincent frowned, making quite a display by throwing himself to the side of the bed. Zola just shook his head and rolled his eyes at the antics.

"Here," he reached into one of his pockets and removed a small pouch. "Put this in a little water. It will help you fall asleep."

"Is it poison?" Vincent quirked his eyebrows suspiciously at the white powder the pouch contained.

"Yes, I thought it'd be a swell idea to kill the man I've been living with for the past nine months and skip town, since you know ALL my secrets."

Vincent just laughed as he padded off to the bathroom and filled a cup. Emptying the pouch, he watched the tiny crystals dissolve in the liquid, and gave the glass a swirl before downing it in one gulp. With a loud sigh and a smacking of his lips, he splashed a bit of water on his face dried off with a towel. As he exited the bathroom, his vision blurred dramatically, and he fell against the side of the door frame, trying in vain to shake off the sudden dizziness. "What...the hell...?" he slurred, trying to take a step forward, and almost falling flat on his face.

"Vin-Vin was a little more tired than he thought he was, eh?" Zola laughed, but it almost sounded like he was choking back tears. Vincent tried to see his face, but his vision was quickly fading. "Don't worry. It really is just a sleep aid." The blonde man noticed that his voice was much closer to him, and he felt his arm being lifted and placed across a pair of narrow, but strong shoulders. Zola helped him shakily to his feet, and he staggered slowly towards the bed. Once they'd reached it, he gently guided Vincent's head to the pillow, and stretched his legs out across the mattress. "There we are!" he breathed, after he'd tugged both his boots off and removed his belt and pants. "All comfy?" A muffled gargle was the only reply he received. Zola chuckled, and climbed to the front of the bed, moving Vincent's head to his lap and slowly stroking his blonde hair back from his forehead. Vincent breathed, deeply, and closed his eyes. "Counting sheep?" Zola asked. Vincent grunted, quickly losing consciousness. "That's a good Vin-Vin...You sleep now." The hand on his forehead began caressing his skin, almost lovingly. "I've got a few things to do myself, tomorrow... If only..." Vincent didn't hear his last words, he was already in a deep sleep.

The next Vincent woke, it was with a pounding head ache. It throbbed so painfully, he swooned with nausea as he sat up. "God damn..." he muttered, unable to focus his eyes for almost a minute. When he did, the first thing he noticed was Zola's absence. Only after that was he dimly aware of a commotion in the street, as he shakily rose from the bed. "Oh no..." It was with a start that the groggy man saw a small pouch sitting atop his tablet he'd been using the previous night, along with two words inscribed on the corner of the page.

_'Forgive me.'_

With a gathering panic, he slowly reached out his hand and pinched the corner of the small pouch. lifting it, his eyes grew wide as large and glittering jewels began spilling out. 'What the...?' He raced to the window, and flung it open to behold a mass exodus taking place in the city streets. Crowds of men, women and children hurried along, carrying every possession they could possibly hold, as they led pack animals further laden with household items down the road. Vincent didn't understand as much Arabic as his partner, but he knew enough to hear the panic and confusion in their voices, and there wasn't a soldier, British or otherwise, in sight. Quickly running to the bedside table, he yanked his pocket watch out of the top drawer, popping it open with his thumb. 7:30 pm... The realizations were dawning on him so quickly, he fell backwards until he was seated on the bed.

"No...NO!" he screamed it to the ceiling, his voice barely audible above all the noise. Throwing his watch against the wall in a rage, he quickly dressed, and went back to the desk to retrieve his two loaded pistols, scattering the jewels across the floor in his haste. Once they were both holstered, he raced out the door and down the stairs. The bottom of the Inn had been stripped completely bare, and not a soul was in sight. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. The Germans were finally attacking, and people were fleeing for fear that the small amount of troops in place would not be enough to stave off what was sure to be a full scale invasion. Vincent grit his teeth and pushed his way through the front door, quickly getting caught up in wave upon wave of people. Elbowing his way to a side street where he'd parked his motor bike, he leapt into the seat and sped off in the opposite direction, towards the Eastern Gate, towards where Vincent knew the fighting would be. 'I've got to find him! I've got to get him out of here!' his mind repeated the words, endlessly, and it did not allow any other thought to deter him. He knew Zola had left with no intention of ever returning, but that wasn't going to stop him. He was going to find his stupid, little sand flea, wherever the hell he was, and he was going home with him, just like he promised! Tch! As if a few, stupid jewels would change his mind!

He had ridden the sandy hills until his gas tank was almost completely empty, when he began to hear the loud pops of rifles and explosion of mortars, accompanied by the constant communications being yelled through the ranks. Throwing the bike into the sand, he dug his heels into the dunes, ducking low as he came up behind one of the British's hastily assembled barriers. A hand flew up and quickly yanked him flat on his stomach.

"Vincent!" Charlie yelled, as he reloaded his rifle directly beside him, "What the fuck are you doing 'ere, mate?"

Vincent chose to ignore the question. "What's going on?"

"Germans started their invasion in the middle of the night!" the sweat covered soldier cocked the rifle, before resuming his firing position. "We don't have nearly enough troops to stave them off, forever, but we're trying bloody damn hard!"

"I'll help you!" Vincent raised his voice over the noise, and took the extra weapon Charlie had lying next to him.

"What about Zola, eh? Did he evacuate with the locals?"

"Y...yeah..." Vincent shut his eyes, tightly, knowing it wasn't the truth, but now wasn't the time to dwell on it. When he reopened them, it was with the intent to kill, and that's exactly what he did. After catching the bare tip of another German soldier's face who dared peek over their own barriers, Charlie let out a laugh.

"Good shot, mate! With you here, maybe we can beat them after all!" The words barely had time to leave his mouth before an enemy soldier stood up and charged towards them, a metal plate shielding his body. Once he was thirty meters away, he dropped his guard long enough to fling something towards them. Vincent took him down almost immediately, but a second later, something small and sinister landed with a thud a few feet away from Charlie. "God, fuck! grenade!" Charlie screamed at the top of his lungs. Vincent immediately pressed his head into the sand and covered it with his arms. An earsplitting explosion deafened him, as he felt heat and shrapnel dig into his arms and side. Dizzy with shock, he slowly came to the realization that he was, indeed, still alive. With a groan, he lifted his head and saw the reason why. Knowing there was time for nothing else, Charlie had dove directly on top of the grenade and absorbed most of it's brutal impact, saving the lives of everyone around him. His body, however, was completely destroyed, and Vincent trembled at the sight, realizing that the blood that now covered him was not all his own. With a pained cry of rage, he took up his rifle again, and began firing. The hatred was overpowering, and he no longer felt the fear or the pain. He shot many, but they were still greatly outnumbered, and as the sun began to set, Vincent realized just how much they had slowly advanced upon them. As the inevitable orders came to lay down their weapons, the bloody and dusty blonde man shakily rose to his feet. The blood loss from the shrapnel in his side was beginning to take it's toll, and he wearily waited for the death he was sure would come. Life seemed to follow his thoughts for a moment, as once their weapons were removed, including his pistols, the German troops ordered them to turn around, and then began to mercilessly execute each and every soldier, one by one. Vincent shut his eyes and saw endless seas of his favorite blue, waiting for the sensation of a bullet through his head. Life, however, had different plans after all, and death didn't come for him, then. He startled when he felt hands land upon him, and roughly jerk his arms behind his back.

"What the-" he growled, finding his strength once more and flinging them to the ground. "Just fucking shoot me, already!" he cried, angrily. An under officer spat something at him, which he did not understand, before five more men seized him, one striking him in the face sharply with the butt of his rifle. Normally, it was not enough to take someone of his size and strength down, but Vincent was too tired from the blood loss and heart ache to fight against the darkness that quickly swept over him, and he slumped to the ground.

Shizuo watched the scene with a mixture of horror and fascination. He'd only seen wars in the movies, and somehow, it just wasn't the same. There was no dramatic music or slow motion shots. People died so quickly and easily, a paranoia he never knew began to creep upon him. The German soldiers quickly restrained the unconscious guide, and they began to drag him away, along with a few lucky, or terribly unlucky British soldiers they had also selected as captives. A small fleet of jeeps and a covered truck slowly approached. A man with much insignia adorning his jacket leapt out of the first car, and approached the under officer, and they exchanged words that sounded anything but pleasant. Apparently, the Germans were not pleased with their victory, for some reason. After shackling their hands and feet and placing bags over their heads, they practically threw their prisoners in the back of the truck, and began their trek back to their temporary place of operations. Shizuo looked down to see, with a shock, that his body moved with them, though he was standing still. He tentatively took a step forward, and was surprised when it brought him closer to the truck. Feeling extreme vertigo, he took one step at a time over the sand speeding beneath him, and reached the back of the truck, hoisting himself up right next to the guard that had been placed over the battered men. One of the British soldiers tried speaking to the guard, but that earned him a swift kick in the face, dislocating his jaw. Shizuo instinctively tried to grab the German's leg, but it was no use. His hand passed through it as if he were made of air, so he let it drop and focused instead on what the guard and the soldiers driving yelled to one another. They still sounded angry, though he didn't understand why. Vincent had regained consciousness a mere half hour later, but stayed completely still and silent, and Shizuo guessed he could only be saving his strength. He watched him slowly turn his head about, trying to become aware of his surroundings, before just lying still. There was nothing he could attempt at that point, and if Shizuo had been in his shoes, he'd probably done the same. After a few hours of driving and stopping to refuel with the large canisters another jeep carried, they came upon, what seemed to Shizuo, to be a makeshift camp. Jumping off the back of the truck before people started passing through him, which creeped him out to no end, he forced himself to follow the German soldiers and prisoners. They were immediately separated and placed in different cells, of sorts. Really, they were only large, metal shipping containers with a light wired over the top in the center, but they had a door was that able to be locked. It was cool now, because it was night, but Shizuo hated to think what it would feel like to be encased in metal in heat of the desert sun. With a violent shove, the blonde stumbled forward until he reached the far side, and slid against the wall until he was back on his unwounded side. They slammed the door shut with a padlock, but Shizuo was able to easily pass through it. He could see a fresh trail of blood, and realized that Vincent was still bleeding. Not knowing what else to do except wait for the inevitable unpleasantness, he sat down next to the wounded man and hung his head, low.

After an hour slowly passed, three men returned. They pulled Vincent into the sitting position, ripping the bag from his head, and the interpreter proceeded to ask him questions. He gave them his name, told them he was not a British soldier, but said little else. Apparently, his captors were not quite convinced. One of the men held a baton, and brought it down swiftly over his shoulders and sides and across his face every time he neglected to give them a telling answer. Eventually, after the man was almost unconscious, blood and saliva pooling beneath his slumped over form, the bag was replaced over his head and the interpreter announced that they would return in one hour and that he should rethink his answers. They left, locking the door behind them. Once again alone, or so he thought, Vincent let himself fall back to the floor, wincing a little at the new cuts and deep bruises now covering his body.

"Why..."

Shizuo barely caught the hoarse and whispered word, but he understood all too well. After everything the guide had been through, and even when he was facing his inevitable death, all his thoughts still fixated on battling to hold on to the love he'd come to know. This, however, was proving difficult, and Shizuo could feel the anger and bitterness rising and completely eclipsing all of the happiness and warmth the man had felt the previous year. How could he still love someone who brought such pain and suffering to the world? How could he love someone who chose to continue that life over him? He could ask all day long why, but the fact still remained that he did, and the weight of the conflicting emotions were tearing him apart. Feeling his throat tighten with empathy, Shizuo watched the defeated man curl into the fetal position, and quietly sob. It wasn't that he was afraid; physical pain, much like Shizuo himself, had never bothered him much. As for death, at this point, it seemed like a welcome relief. He cried for the most precious thing in his life; he cried for his mate. He cried for everything he believed his love to be, and he cried because he did not even know if Zola had been somewhere on that battlefield, and the uncertainty was killing him faster than his wounds. The men returned, as promised, to continue their interrogations, but Vincent had nothing left at that point, and passively lay there, as they continued to shout and beat him with their boots and sticks. Finally, one of the guards snarled something in German, and drew a pistol from his belt, aiming it directly at Vincent's head. Shizuo was forced to turn his head away, unable to look. At that moment, the door to the container was thrown open, allowing the morning light to flood around an imposing figure, who made the interrogation team immediately scatter and stand at attention. Shizuo squinted at the man and realized that it was Zola...an extremely pissed off, Nazi looking Zola. Shizuo almost smiled as he heaved a sigh of relief. He never thought he'd be so glad to see a Nazi, and oh, but he was in rare form. Nothing in his face betrayed the fact that he'd spent every night of the past nine months with the man they had just beaten black and blue, but the look in his stormy eyes made the men around him shrink away in fear. He immediately walked to the center of the floor, and began barking at the practically cowering men around him, staring them down each in turn. Apparently they had been naughty, or so Shizuo gathered from the way they gazed down at their boots. Finally, after a moment of chilling silence, Zola walked closer to Vincent, and stiffly knelt besides him, removing his glove and placing two fingers against the side of his neck. His face twitched, just barely, not enough for anyone one else besides Shizuo to notice. Rising back to his feet, he returned the glove to his hand.

"Verlassen Sie!" he yelled, sharply. One of the guards looked a bit incredulous and said something in reply, once again aiming his pistol at Vincent's head. This proved to be a huge mistake on his part. Shizuo only saw a brief flash, before the guard's left ear was gone. It took a few seconds for the now handicapped man to even realize what had just happened, and his eyes were wide with shock as his blood coated his uniform. Once he did, though, his shrieks pierced the heavens, as he cradled his injury. The other men paled, considerably, but Zola acted as if he had just swatted a fly, as he calmly wiped the blade off with a handkerchief and sheathed it. "Verlassen Sie jetzt." His tone sent a shiver down Shizuo's spine, and the men quickly fled. He guessed that was the cue to leave in a hurry. Once they were gone, and the door had been shut, Zola immediately dropped to Vincent's side, throwing his gloves and his hat off and taking his swollen and bloodied face into his hands. "Vincent!" he whispered, fiercely. "Vincent! You crazy fool!" Zola shook his head, as he looked over his former lover's body for other serious injuries. His hands grazed over the grenade shrapnel buried in his side, and Vincent's back arched as a pained sigh escaped his lips. Taking in the full extent of the damage, Zola exhaled, sharply. "Oh god, Vincent..." he whispered, tears beginning to gather in his eyes. "Why didn't you just leave? Why?"

Vincent coughed, more blood spilling from his mouth, and at the sound of the familiar voice, struggled to sit up. His eyes were almost completely swollen shut, but with tremendous effort, he was able to crack them open, slightly, as Zola helped him. "I came...for you..." he breathed, his lungs rattling. Zola shut his eyes, tightly, as tears streamed down his face, and he leaned his forehead against the slowly dying man's.

"I will get you out of here," he vowed with a quiet sob. "I will get you out, I just need to think of how! But Vincent, listen to me! Vin-vin, listen!" he gripped the sides of Vincent's lolling head and held it still. "You have to escape! You can't look for me, you have to go!"

"N...no..." Vincent tried to shake his head, but only managed to topple himself over.

"Yes! Vincent... we can't be together. There is nowhere we would be happy. They would find me. You must leave."

"No! Not without you!" Vincent spoke a little too loudly, and Zola hushed him, gently, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"You don't understand," he whispered sadly. "You don't know all of the things I've done. There is no life for me anywhere else, Vincent. But you, you're free. Go...Go back home." Vincent just shook his head, and Zola grew desperate. "I'm a spy," he growled. "Do you hear me? I'm the reason all those soldiers died, yesterday. I'm the reason you're hurt. I'm a fucking intelligence agent! And I lied to you! About everything! Get it? I played you like a total fool! And oh, you were easy! You told me anything I wanted to know, and it made my job quite simple!"

"Stop..."

"That was my only purpose in Cairo, to help plan the invasion! They wanted to know as much as possible about the number of troops and their movements in the area, and I told them! I told them everything!"

"Zola,...please," Vincent begged, but he went on.

"And do you know why? Because it's my fucking job! I gather information, and I'll do anything to get it! Even fuck someone like you!" Shizuo winced as Zola stood back up. That had been harsh, but he could sense that Zola was not being truthful. Vincent fell silent at those last words, as the dark haired man tried to regain his composure, replacing his hat on his head and his gloves on his hands. "I will send a medic, and then I want you gone!" he hissed, icily, before pivoting on his heels and shoving his way through the door. Shizuo saw him give the guard posted in front of the door a few words, and guessed that he was instructing the man to fetch a doctor and let no harm befall the prisoner. The guard clicked his heels together, and saluted with his right hand out, and Zola briskly walked away. Shizuo hurried after him, curious to understand his motives. He followed him into the main building and all the way into a decently furnished room. Zola bit a few words out to the guard next to the door, which, much to Shizuo's delight, he began to understand. It was a loud and clear, 'Leave me the hell alone', and with that, he slammed the door shut behind him. Walking to his desk, he angrily swept his hand across it, knocking all of its contents to the floor, and stood there, with a hand covering his face, trembling. "Verdammt!" he seethed, under his breath, before a man and two guards burst into his room. Shizuo wished he'd studied the old uniforms more in depth so that he could tell for certain, but from the row of shiny metals and the skull and crossbones on the man's hat, he guessed the man entering the room was pretty high up on the ladder. Zola's face immediately became stoic, as the officer and his two escorts approached him. He looked anything but pleased, and a sharp strike across the spy's face with the back of his hand confirmed it.

"Ve're losing dis battle, Folke!" he spat, as Zola straightened himself, wiping the blood from his lip. Thankfully, probably to help avoid eavesdropping, the man spoke in English, albeit with a thick accent. "And it's your fault!" he pointed an accusing finger at the younger man. "Your information vas flawed! There are far more soldiers here, and sie supply route you mapped vas utterly ridiculous! You've traveled dis terrain before, you should have known! Half our supplies vent missing or never made it here at all!" Zola's only response was to narrow his eyes and grin an awful smile full of teeth.

"Everyone makes mistakes, eh?" he smirked, in an extremely unpleasant tone. Shizuo looked back and forth between them, utterly confused. Zola was no fool, and it seemed he'd been primarily in charge of planning the invasion, but did that mean...?

"Oh my god!" Shizuo stared with wide eyes at the raven haired man, who stood almost cockily as the officer made threat after threat of what would happen upon their return to Germany, which included but was not limited to his death by hanging. Zola took it all in with a smile of superiority and almost amusement, an expression Shizuo was all too familiar with in his real life. His mind reeling, the blonde man began to finally grasp the truth of the situation. "You sabotaged it!" As soon as the realization hit, a thunderous explosion sounded in the direction they had come from. It was so close, Shizuo was forced to cover his ringing ears. When he opened his eyes, everyone in the room had ducked for cover, except Zola, who stood staring with wide eyes through the window. Shizuo looked as well, and his heart sank. It looked as if the rockets had hit right next to the containers where the prisoners had been taken. They lay scattered, and mangled, and the ones that also held supplies were ablaze with fire. Everything started happening so fast, Shizuo's head began to spin. The sounds of mortars exploding and gunfire filled the base, as the German's rallied their forces to retaliate against the counterattack. Shizuo watched them run past the door, yelling out warnings and orders, and heading in the direction of where the first bombs had hit. The men in the room leapt to their feet and the guards quickly tugged at the officer's arm, pleading for him to get to safety. He spun on his heels and pointed his finger in the still frozen Zola's face.

"I'll deal vit you later, treacherous snake!"

Zola drew a deep breath, and Shizuo could see all of the shock slowly fade away into an empty despair in his eyes. His face completely void of all emotion, he drew his pistol from his belt and shot the officer in the forehead, his blood splattering his guards behind him. Before the other two could even react, Zola had already put two bullets through their heads, and they slumped to the ground in a heap. Still eerily calm, the hopeless man placed the pistol on top of the desk, threw his hat on the bed, and slowly removed his gloves. Letting them drop to the floor, he slowly reached for his violin, which was lying across the pillow. As the intense noise and flashes of battle continued to wage outside, he brought his beloved instrument to his chin, and slowly and methodically tightened his bow, before resting it against the strings. Closing his eyes shut, tightly, he began to play that same beautiful song; their song. Shizuo could practically see the violin absorbing all of the man's anguish and rage as Zola played his soul bare, the strings crying for him, when he, it seemed, could not.

No doubt attracted by the sound of such beautiful music, a British squad sweeping the main building stopped at his door, filing in one by one and setting up point. Noting the dead bodies on the floor, the squad leader looked at the seemingly oblivious Nazi, playing next to the window. Shizuo could see the utter confusion on his face, and he glanced at the soldier to his side, who did a little circular motion with his finger next to his head to give his opinion on the matter. They aimed their rifles directly at Zola's back. "Hey, you there! Hands up and turn 'round where we can see you!" Zola stopped playing, and gently laid the violin, almost reverently, on the desk, fluidly picking up the pistol in its stead. Shizuo doubted the British soldiers were able to see it. "Are you deaf, bloke?" the squad leader yelled, again. "I said hands in the air! You have till three! One! Two!"

"...Three," Zola whispered, turning to face them and placing the barrel against his temple. The soldiers startled, and gripped their weapons tighter.

"Oh, bloody hell..." the squad leader muttered, immediately recognizing the man whom everyone had always assumed was nothing more than a musician who liked to clown around and who loved attention. "It's you! But Vincent... What's going on?" he demanded, angrily. Zola only smiled at him, a little sadly.

"Please forgive me," he whispered. The soldiers could not hear him over all of the noise, but Shizuo knew those words were not meant for their ears, anyway. Letting his eyes slowly close, he saw Zola's finger begin to tighten around the trigger, and quickly lunged for the hopeless man. The loud crack of a single shot filled the room right when his hand reached him, and Shizuo's vision was stormed with images both painful and terrifying. He tried to shut his eyes against the terrible scenes that paraded through his mind, but it was impossible. He saw a frail and dark haired boy, cowering in fear from the men that frequented, what looked to be, a dubious inn. He saw what he could only guess to be the poor boy's mother, beat him mercilessly and scream things that no parent should ever tell their child. Time skipped to a beautiful, but ferocious eyed teenager, who had learned long ago that the world had more than its fair share of cruelty, and who had also learned to do just about anything to survive. Zola as a teen was already fully equipped with all the cunning and resourcefulness of his adult life, but had yet to learn to bridle the raging bitterness that only comes from a life of torment and abuse. Shizuo watched him lie, cheat, steal, and eventually kill to get what he wanted from the world's tightly clenched, unrelenting fist. He didn't want to see it, the path that eventually led the by now unstoppable tsunami that was Zola Folke to the Nazi's door, but it was no use. Being incredibly gifted, the boy had moved on from Japan and, naturally, tracked down his biological father, for what original means, Shizuo could only guess, and none of the guesses were pleasant ones. Through exceptional skill and the coercion of his father into using his military connections, the slight but deadly man quickly climbed the ranks, not caring who he stepped on or how many people began to die as the Nazis rose to greater power. Watching the sad story flash across his own eyes, Shizuo could feel no emotions reaching him from the quickly dying man. He seemed to view his life just as cold and indifferently as he had anyone else's, that was until Vincent's image flitted past. A warm and tingling sensation flooded Shizuo's body, a feeling that finally overpowered the bitingly cold emptiness that pervaded so much of the falling man before him's life.

Shizuo looked up when he heard the thump of a body hitting the floor, but he could not look directly at it. Instead, he let his gaze wander to the violin on the desk, and the bright splash of red that now painted its side.

"What the fuck!" one of the soldiers yelped.

"Christ! Loony, that one!"

"Regroup!" the squad leader commanded. "We'll find out once Vincent wakes up, eh? Mission first! Drive on!"

The men quickly left the room, and Shizuo blinked at what he'd just heard. Vincent..._he was still alive! _

As the scene before his eyes slowly began to fade, Shizuo felt a presence next to him and turned to see Zola had appeared at his side. "You didn't betray him..." Shizuo said, looking back at the blurring scene. Everything quickly began to melt away at his words, and they were once again in darkness.

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><p><strong>So, the question was posed, how will Izaya take to the whole otherworldly smooching bit? ^o^ Not very well, I can tell you that much. Thanks everyone who read this far! :D <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow! Internet cookie for me writing this in one day? ^^ Yes, I confess, my publishing caught up to where I had written, so...I was forced to write more if I wanted to publish something, today. Yee! Thanks for reading, guys. This'll probably be the last chapter, and I'll be posting an epilogue sometime later in the week. Yip, yip! **

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><p>Shizuo was slightly wary. He didn't want to risk the ghost mistaking his identity again, but he needed answers. "Couldn't you have, you know, changed sides? I'm sure the British or the States would have given you asylum in exchange for your help."<p>

Zola smiled, bitterly, and turned his head away, giving Shizuo an unwelcome view of the self inflicted wound that had killed him. He seemed more settled, anyway, and to his relief, the spirit now recognized that Shizuo and Vincent were, in fact, two different people. "There seemed little point in defecting."

"Yeah, except they were on the winning side..." Shizuo muttered. "And you would have lived."

"It would have been impossible to prove my treason, I hide my tracks, well," Zola said, simply. "And I did not wish to live in a world without him."

"But...I don't think he died..." Shizuo spoke, carefully. The ghost beside him shrugged.

"What we were, was dead. He would never have forgiven me."

"You don't know that!" Shizuo barked, sharply. Zola startled, and blinked at him. "You're a freaking moron! You never even gave him a chance! You just threw money at him and expected that to be enough!"

"Because it would have been better to drag him down with me?" Zola shot back, fiercely, and Shizuo felt the air around him compressing. He quickly decided he'd better get his temper under check. This was a spirit he was not sure he could best, inhuman strength or not. "I made my choice! Can you honestly tell me that you would have done differently?"

"You could have explained what you were trying to do..." Shizuo mumbled, looking away. "You could have just been honest..."

Zola smiled a smile that looked anything but happy. "And if I had, do you think I would have persuaded him otherwise?"

"...No..." As much as it pained him to admit it, they were probably doomed from the start. Shizuo couldn't imagine Vincent's home country being too pleased when they found out he'd run off with a Nazi. Though he did not fight on their side, it would still lend itself toward aiding the enemy, if for nothing else than the simple fact he was not turning Zola over to the authorities.

"You remind me of him, a great deal," Zola whispered. "He promised he'd always love me, no matter what... I wish...things could have been different."

"He does love you!" At the confused look he received, Shizuo grit his teeth and clenched his fists. "Things will be different!"

"How?"

"I'm going to find Vincent, alive or not, and make him forgive you!" Zola's eyes grew large, before an indulgent smile spread across his face. "What? You don't believe me?" Shizuo demanded. He took both of the ghost's cold, thin shoulders in his hands and gripped them, firmly. "I promise that I'll find him and tell him the truth! I'll make this right, but you have to do something for me!"

"And what is that?" Zola queried, more than a little perplexed at the blonde's behavior.

"You have to let my friend out of the curse!"

"The what, now?"

"The curse!" Shizuo insisted. "The one on your violin! It kills anyone who owns it because of all the bad feelings you imprinted on it, and I want your promise that you won't let it hurt my friend!"

"Ah, the one you protected from before?" Zola smiled, knowingly. Shizuo blushed a little, but he tried to keep his serious bearing. Zola chuckled at his face and narrowed his eyes. "You have one month."

Shizuo let out the breath he'd been holding with a large and goofy smile. "Thank you!" he said, sincerely, hugging the ghost tightly to his chest. "And I will help you! You have my word!"

Zola smiled nostalgically at the contact, and lightly patted his elbow. "You really are a kind person, aren't you?" he said, softly.

Shizuo didn't reply, but continued to hold the dead man close to him, trying to impart whatever feelings of good will he could into the chilly, black soul, until he, too, faded away into the darkness. Suddenly, Shizuo felt a falling sensation and a familiar impact, and he knew he was back in his body in the physical world once more.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, he needs CPR! Stand aside; I'm a trained proffessional!"<p>

"His breathing is FINE! Touch him, and you will die!"

"Please, both of you! I no can concentrate with you yelling so much!"

"Why hasn't he woken up, yet? You're the most useless witch, ever!"

"Don't talk to my aunt like that, dolboeb!"

"Oh, I'm so insulted, blyadischa!"

"_Gasp! _How do you know Russian?"

"I'd know what to call you in ANY language!"

"QUIET! NOW!"

Shizuo groaned at the barrage of noise assaulting his ears upon his waking, and the room immediately fell silent. The peace didn't last long.

"Shizuo? Shizuo! Can you hear me?" Izaya panicked, and the still foggy headed, blonde man became aware of an intense choking sensation.

"Eeeargh..." was about all he could gargle in reply. He felt the death grip around his head and neck loosen, and hazily blinked up at Izaya's face, which was right in front of his, and he was not smiling. Relief flashed across his eyes for a brief moment, before the look quickly turned to one of barely bridled rage. Almost mechanically, Izaya let Shizuo's head fall off his lap on to the floor with a thud, and quickly rose.

"Shizu-chan! Welcome back!" he smiled...evilly.

Shizuo winced at the new lump on his head and slowly sat up, having quite forgot about his previous actions before he passed out. He blinked at Izaya in confusion for a moment, letting out a loud _"oomph!"_ as the informant proceeded to step on, rather than over, him, digging the heel of his shoe into his lower belly and dangerously close to something else. It was about then, he finally remembered. "Oh, boy..." he muttered, realizing he might have sabotaged any chance of every being more than friends with the currently very pissed off informant standing before him. Never mind the reasons behind it, going and kissing someone else, even if that someone was dead, wasn't exactly a good precursor to, "hey! wanna go out?" And even worse, now Izaya would assume he had lied about not being in love with the no longer living man. "Umm, look,...About what I did..."

"You made out with a ghost!" Izaya and Shizuo both flinched at Vorona's exclamation. "You must be insane!"

"There was a reason!" Shizuo quickly tried to defend.

"Oh, do tell! I'm sure your explanation will be absolutely fascinating!" Izaya sounded excited for all the wrong reasons, and Shizuo felt impending doom creeping upon him.

"Well, we had to do something! He was about to completely destroy the place! And it was the only thing I could think of that I was pretty sure would work!"

"Oh, yes, of course! Silly me!" Izaya laughed in a high pitch, before grabbing his coat and the violin.

"Why do you even care, anyway?" Shizuo asked, frustration coloring his voice as he trailed after the hastily leaving man. "Why should I have to answer to you for anything I do? You're acting like we're...we're-"

"Boyfriends? Aren't you two a couple?" Vorona asked. She looked very confused.

"Nope!" Izaya spun on his heels, after giving Shizuo a poignant look. "I would think that was obvious!" And with that, he left. Shizuo blinked at the empty doorway and heaved a long and heavy sigh, before turning back to Anja and Vorona.

"Thank you for your help, Anja. I think I know what we have to do, now. Sorry about your house."

"No worry, Shizuo!" Anja smiled, giving him a firm hug. "I glad we help! You always welcome here!"

"Yeah, you, but not your boyfriend!" Vorona clarified. Shizuo just sighed again, as he shook her hand.

"He's really not my boyfriend..." he said, somewhat regretfully as he started towards the door. After a thought, he paused and looked over his shoulder at the two women. "Yet!" he added, with a sly smile. Vorona blinked at him, as Anja burst out laughing.

"Oh, Shizuo!" she breathed between her chuckles. "Maybe I not such bad fortune teller, after all! I still see beautiful, raven haired beauty in your future!"

Shizuo laughed, as he opened the door. "If the beauty will forgive the beast, maybe," he said, before closing the door behind him. Forgiveness... It seemed to be a common theme, lately, and as Shizuo looked about for the informant and saw no one, he knew he was going to find the concept quite challenging. He called Izaya's cell phone, but no one answered, and he growled, irritably, all but forcing himself to stop from throwing the stupid thing into the ground. Izaya could be quite the jealous bugger! Shizuo wondered, as he walked to a nearby park, why he'd never noticed it before. What did that mean, exactly? Did that mean that Izaya actually liked him...romantically? The thought sent a jolt through his body, and he gave a little shake and rolled out his shoulders with a large and silly grin. Maybe this wasn't going to be as difficult as he had thought! Well, there was still the whole curse thing to be dealt with, but nothing had seemed as insurmountable as his unrequited love. He sat down on a park bench, dreaming about the possibilities of the future, the smile on his face only getting wider and wider.

"Well, you seem awfully happy!" Izaya had appeared beside him after it had grown dark, as he sat there, grinning like a complete idiot.

"I am!" Shizuo said matter-of-factly, throwing his arm across the back of the park bench and lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply. "I have a plan!"

"About the curse?" Izaya asked.

"About everything! But I need your help, cause we only got a month. What do you say, flea?" he grinned, leaving the cigarette in his mouth and extending his hand. "Ready for life to get back to normal, again?"

Izaya looked as if he were studying his hand for a moment, and Shizuo could see his reddish eyes sparkling with a rekindled curiosity. After all, he hadn't heard everything that Shizuo had experienced while he was blacked out yet, and the blonde man guessed that it was the main reason for his appearance, now. It never mattered how irate the informant got, his curiosity would always eclipse it, and Shizuo couldn't help but find that kind of cute. He finally took his hand in a firm shake with a smile. "Neanderthals do need constant supervision. What did you have in mind?"

Shizuo laughed and gave his shoulder a slap. "Come on. I'll walk home with you and tell you on the way." They walked slowly through the dimly lit streets as Shizuo told him every detail. He especially emphasized just how unpleasant the icy sting of death that traveled through him during the kiss was, making it sound absolutely anything but sexy. Izaya had thrown back his head and laughed at that, and it made Shizuo smile. He then interjected that Shizuo really needed to find other ways to travel to the past other than going comatose...as it was most inconvenient. Shizuo just shook his head and continued on. Things quickly grew somber again, as he neared the end of the story. Finishing with the deal he and the spirit struck right before he woke up, they both sat in silence for a moment, as Izaya fully absorbed the tragedy. "Zola needs Vincent's forgiveness. I really believe this will all go away once he gets it."

"And you think he went back to America? To Tennessee?"

"If I were him, that's what I would have done. I doubt he stayed in that area, once he recovered, and you know he really seemed to like the idea of having a ranch. We've got a month to track him down, so that's the first place I would look."

"Let's see," Izaya thought out loud as they neared the building he lived in. "If Mr. Scott, or whatever his last name is now, is still alive, he'd be over 90 years old."

"It's unlikely he's still alive," Shizuo conceded, "But even if we can just find his grave sight, it will be better than nothing."

"I'll start searching the archives of every major city in the state to see if any large tracts of land were purchased around that time frame, outright. I have a feeling those jewels were probably still waiting for him when he got back to his room." Izaya smiled as they approached the main doors, which quickly slid open. "And just think! You wouldn't have to kiss him again if Vincent were there, neh?" he chuckled. "Since it was so unpleasant and all!" Shizuo favored him with a somewhat sultry look, which made the informant stop laughing and stare at him, almost fearfully.

"The only consolation," Shizuo clarified, without breaking eye contact, "was that he looked like you." And with that, he walked away, leaving Izaya utterly speechless, for once.

* * *

><p>Getting a passport proved to be a very lengthy and frustrating process. It took two weeks just for his application to be processed, and the blonde man was ready to just swim across the ocean to California before it finally arrived in the mail. Luckily, during that time, Izaya had tracked down a few land purchases that looked as if they fit the bill, and was even pleased to find one was made by a Vinnie Reynolds, who happened to still be alive and living in the area, though the ranch had long since been sold. That sounded like as good a bet as any, and as soon as Shizuo had a passport, Izaya booked tickets for the next flight out to Los Angeles, and from there to Nashville.<p>

During the time they spent waiting and on the flight over, Izaya tried to help Shizuo brush up on his English skills. He wasn't completely ignorant of the language, but it had been a long time since he'd been forced to use it. It was so easy to understand in his dreams, but unfortunately, that seemed to only be because Vincent understood it. Now, it just sounded like gibberish, again. Luckily, Izaya was fluent in several languages, English being one of them, so he didn't have to worry about losing too much time just trying to navigate the foreign land and culture. Still, he didn't want to be completely out of the loop whenever Izaya spoke to someone. And besides, it was kind of fun getting English lessons from the flea. To Shizuo's delight, his parting words that night they came home from Anja's had seemed to have a lasting effect on Izaya. The informant barely looked him in the eye, but seemed to always be staring at him every time Shizuo turned away. And his sinister smirks and playful Cheshire grins had been momentarily replaced by a look of almost extreme concentration, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle, constantly, in his mind. Every now and then, his true personality would peak through, but all it would take was a direct look or accidental touch from Shizuo to send the informant back into a deep and introspective silence. And he stuttered a lot whenever he first met Shizuo for the day or was saying goodbye, and to the blonde man's amazement, he also blushed a great deal more, and seemingly, at every little thing he did. And now as they sat in the, thankfully, spacious seats of the airplane, Shizuo threw down his English phrase book and tapped Izaya, who'd been texting furiously on one of his phones, on the shoulder, the sudden contact making the informant leap high enough to almost smack his head against the ceiling. This, of course, brought on another round of furious blushing, and Shizuo chuckled.

"Jumpy little flea!" he teased, tousling his hair. This earned him a brief glare from Izaya, who quickly looked out the window.

"What?" he said, flatly.

"Nothing. Tired of studying this bull shit." Shizuo waived the small book around before tucking it into a seat pocket. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Were you working?"

Izaya shook his head. "Celty keeps texting me. She's very curious about our little adventure. I told her I'll keep her posted."

"That's kind of you," Shizuo raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well," Izaya smiled in a familiarly sly way, "She is the most reliable courier in the city, after all. I can't see how it would hurt to remain on semi-good terms with her."

"Can I see what she said?" Shizuo asked, reaching for his phone. "I wanna talk to her, too!"

To his surprise, the phone quickly vanished somewhere within Izaya's coat. "Certainly not! Use your own phone, Shizu-chan!"

Shizuo frowned. "But my phone's almost dead, and besides, yours has that nifty, key pad, thingy."

Izaya sighed, dramatically, and whisked the phone out of his coat. Typing a few buttons, quickly, he handed the phone over to Shizuo. "There you are. Happy?"

Shizuo blinked at the last message on the screen. _"I'm putting Shizuo on the phone, now."_

"You had to warn her?" He asked, with a grin. "What were you two really talking about?"

"Nothing a neanderthal need be concerned with!" Izaya sniffed, making as if he were about to try to sleep, even though Shizuo could tell he was starting to get flustered.

"That's fine. I'll just ask her," Shizuo shrugged, as he began typing. Faster than a cobra striking, Izaya plucked the phone from his hand and once again made it disappear.

"Phone privileges revoked," he announced, curling into a tight ball on the seat and facing the opposite way. Shizuo just cracked up, again. For once, he was having a great deal of fun playing this little game. When he could finally tell from the steady rise and fall of Izaya's back that he was no longer pretending, and actually asleep, he gently rested his hand on top of his dark hair and pet him, gently, which earned an appreciative cooing sound from the sleeping informant. Shizuo smiled. Izaya still liked being pet, but everything else was changing. Their dynamic was changing. They'd both been slightly overstepping the boundary of more than just friends for a while, now, but still had yet to take that final plunge. It was odd. Sometimes, Shizuo thought they were so much like Vincent and Zola, it was scary, but those two had certainly known what they'd wanted from the moment they laid eyes on each other. Shizuo couldn't help but be a little jealous. Even so, as he slowly ran his fingers through Izaya's soft and fine hair, he couldn't help but admit that this was pretty nice, too. Their journey to the same end might have been taking a little longer, but that didn't mean Shizuo wasn't enjoying every second of it. He hoped Izaya felt the same, as he dozed off, his hand still resting on the informant back. At the sudden lack of petting, Izaya flipped over in his sleep, and edged closer to the warm body in the other seat, nuzzling his head into Shizuo's side. A flight attendant paused as she walked by, and hugged her hands to her chest in awe.

"They're just so _cute_!" she whispered to herself, fiercely. Looking about, she took an extra blanket from an overhead bin, and gently placed it over the slumbering men. She then drew her phone out of her pocket and was about to snap their picture, but just as she was about to take it, she saw Izaya's eyes pop open on the screen and fix on her, a sinister smirk spreading across his face. She startled, and apologized, profusely with a bow before making a hasty retreat. Satisfied that he was still quite intimidating, Izaya looked up at Shizuo, who was still snoring away, and smiled, somewhat hopelessly. With a small shrug, he nestled back down under the blanket and leaned his head against the taller man's side once more, feeling quite comfortable. Together, they slept for most of the time until the plane touched down.

As soon as they were outside the Nashville airport, Shizuo immediately lit a cigarette as they waited for the rental car. Letting his eyes roll to the back of his head in relief, he let the sweet feeling of nicotine slowly wash over him with a contented sigh. Izaya clucked his tongue at him.

"Shizu-chan, if it came down to saving my life, but never smoking again, I think you'd choose the cancer sticks," he tsked.

"Well, let's hope it never comes to that, flea!" Shizuo grinned, taking another long drag. Izaya rolled his eyes and checked his watch.

"They're taking forever. The car was supposed to be here when we stepped off the plane," he grumbled, tapping his foot.

"How are we getting a rental car, anyway?" Shizuo wondered. "Don't you have to have a driver's license?"

Izaya grinned, quickly producing a new and shiny, completely legal looking, international driver's license. Shizuo took it in his hand, blinking at the insane smile the informant had donned for the photo. "You don't even have a car! Do I even want to know how you got this?" he demanded. Izaya laughed, maniacally, and placed the card back in his wallet. Shizuo just frowned. "We're going to die, aren't we?" he said, rubbing his eyes, wearily.

"That's a terrible thing to say, Shizu-chan! How do you know I'm a bad driver if you've never even driven with me?"

"You've never driven at all! That's how I know!" Shizuo yelled.

"Shh!" Izaya hissed, at the loud display. This wasn't Ikebukuro and they were already attracting enough stares from the local yocals. Thank god Shizuo was at least wearing some of the newer, more normal clothes he had bought for him. Izaya doubted they would have ever made it through security if he'd been wandering about the airport in a bar tending uniform and shades. As if to finally save them from themselves, the rental car appeared, a light pink, Chevy Malibu, and Izaya quickly confirmed his information with the rental associate, as Shizuo gaped at the vehicle.

"What the hell kind of car is this?"

"I didn't pick the color, Shizu-chan. Just get in," Izaya smiled, twirling the keys about on his finger. Shizuo's eyebrow arched high into the air, as he ground his cigarette out with his shoe.

"This is not the impression I wanted to give Americans of myself," he muttered, as he slid into the plush seat.

"It's the impression we were both giving them, anyway," Izaya assured him, as he threw the violin in the back seat and started the engine.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just buckle up, and hold on."

"Wait, what? AAH-!"

The tires squealed, as Izaya pressed the pedal to the floor, and they violently sped forward. Shizuo leaned as far back into the seat as possible, gripping the side door so tightly, his fingers began sinking into the plastic. "Would you slow the FUCK down!" he screeched, shutting his eyes and bracing himself as Izaya narrowly avoided yet another slow moving car.

"Would you relax, Shizu-chan? I have everything completely under control."

Shizuo doubted it, as a group of pedestrians crossing the street lept out of the way just in time. Izaya seemed to think giving the horn two quick honks was warning enough of his speedy approach.

"You're going to kill someone!" Shizuo warned, shutting his eyes again, as they quickly approached a row of stopped cars at a traffic light. Izaya's solution to this was to simply ride the curb and go around them, maneuvering through the crossing traffic, and sending cars veering off to the side in every direction.

"Then they need to move," Izaya reasoned. "After all, this car is fully equipped with a bumper, and that's what it's for."

"No it's NOT!"

"Oh, Shizu-chan," Izaya sighed, as he turned a complete 180 to catch the ramp to the interstate, "You shouldn't get so excited. It's not good for the blood pressure."

Shizuo looked up to see them quickly approaching a road completely jam packed with cars, which Izaya seemed to have no intention of slowing down to merge into, and just shut his eyes, again. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

"Ugh! So dramatic!" Izaya exclaimed, as he slammed on the breaks, sending the car drifting sideways into a small opening in the traffic. They finally came to a stop, and Shizuo practically melted into a puddle in his seat. "See? We're going slow. Happy now?"

"God, YES!" Shizuo breathed, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. Izaya laughed as he slowly inched the car forward.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" he said, gleefully. "It was quite the sight!"

"Glad you think scaring the shit out of me is so entertaining," Shizuo grumbled, as he shakily lit another cigarette.

"Uh-uh, Shizu-chan!" Izaya chided, pointing to the no smoking sticker on the side window.

Shizuo just let out a stream of smoke into Izaya's face, which made the informant choke. "I'm pretty sure they're going to be a little more concerned over the dented rims and scuffed paint." Izaya just wrinkled his nose at him.

"That deer just came out of nowhere. There wasn't time to stop."

"What deer?"

"The one we're going to tell the insurance company about."

"...You're terrible."

"But you like me, anyway," Izaya pointed out, pretending to study the road. Shizuo regarded him silently, grinned, and turned back to his own window, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Yeah..." he conceded, deciding to let it go. Izaya just made an awkward coughing sound in response, his face slightly red.

"As soon as this traffic clears up, it won't take to long to get there," he told him, changing the subject. "Have you thought about what we're going to say to him?"

"Just the truth," Shizuo shrugged. "What else is there to say? He'll be happier for knowing."

"What if he doesn't want to hear it?" Izaya's voice was laced with worry. "What if he doesn't even remember?"

"Let's just see when we get there," Shizuo smiled, comfortingly. "Don't worry about it." Izaya glanced over at him, mirroring the smile, though it was still nervous, and they rode in silence for a while. Truthfully, Shizuo was a little worried, himself, and the feeling only compounded as Izaya took an nondescript looking exit, and turned down a long drive a short time later. He just kept reminding himself that if he were Vincent, he would want to know. The car eventually rolled to a stop in front of a simple, two story, yellow house, with an American flag fluttering on the corner of the garage. Izaya turned the key, and looked at Shizuo. Shizuo returned the look and tried to put on his most confident smile. "Here goes nothing!" he said, cheerily, and got out the car. Izaya did the same, and they immediately heard a dog barking, angrily, from behind the privacy fence enclosing the back yard. A little put off by the hostile greeting, Shizuo cleared his throat and started down the front walkway, Izaya following close behind, carrying the violin. They reached a white door, inlaid with an oval of frosted glass and Shizuo reached forward and rang the doorbell. They both immediately heard the pattering of steps, and saw a diminutive form quickly approach the door, yanking it open. Looking down, they met eyes with a small boy, not more than five, with a shock of blonde hair and large, brown eyes. He stared up at them, blankly.

"Well, hello there!" Izaya tried his best to put on a...nice smile, as he spoke in English. "We're looking for Mr. Reynolds. Is he at home?" The child said nothing, and continued to stare at them with large, round eyes. Izaya blinked, and tried again. "How about your parents?" he asked. "Can we please speak to them?" When he was met with more silence, Izaya's eyes began to narrow. "My, my! Cat got your tongue?" he asked, hiding his irritation behind a sinister smile. Shizuo didn't get the idiom, but he did see that the boy now looked absolutely terrified and as if he'd burst into tears at any minute. He was practically shrinking away from Izaya's awful smile.

"Really, flea?" Shizuo raised his eyebrows. Izaya groaned and shot him an annoyed look.

"I hate kids!"

"Cause you don't know how to speak to them."

"And you do?"

"Stand aside!" Shizuo crouched down until he was eye level, and removed his sunglasses. He smiled, until the little boy, slowly, began to smile back. "Hi," Shizuo said, in his normal tone of voice. His English wasn't nearly as perfect as Izaya's but his demeanor was warm and friendly.

"H-hi," the boy replied.

"I am Shizuo, and the guy that looks like a rat is Izaya," he jerked his thumb upwards, and the boy laughed. Izaya just rolled his eyes. "Can we speak to your mom or dad?"

The boy nodded, enthusiastically, and dipped back his head. "MAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOM!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Izaya and Shizuo both jumped and resisted the urge to cover their ears.

"Matthew! What on earth are- Oh! Hi, there!" a plump, but kind looking woman in a long skirt and red sweater quickly appeared behind the child. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time, but we really don't want anything," she said, as she began to close the door. Shizuo stuck his foot in the doorway, and she opened it with a slightly annoyed and confused expression.

"Wait-" Shizuo began, trying hard to find the right words in English, but taking far too long to do it.

"We're not selling anything," Izaya interjected. "We're here to see a Mr. Reynolds. It's very urgent that we speak to him."

"Do you mean my grandfather?" she asked, completely perplexed. Izaya quickly sized up her age.

"Yes."

"Why in heaven's name would...you two want to speak to him?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

"It involves your grandfather's role in the war," Izaya began.

"Look, if you're seeking some seriously belated revenge, I hate to be the one to tell you, but my grandfather was never in the war."

"Ah, but you're wrong about that! He was, indeed," Izaya corrected. "We have a message to deliver, so if you'd be so kind?"

"I don't know who you think you are-!"

"Please, lady, er ma'am," Shizuo tried. "It is very important, something that he really needs to know!"

"Well, you can't see him! He's very ill and not receiving any visitors!"

"We'll just wait until he's better, then," Izaya smiled, tightly.

"No, you'll leave, now, before I call the cops!"

"What are 'cops'?" Shizuo whispered in his native tongue.

Before Izaya could answer and the woman could slam the door on his foot, there came a clattering from the next room over and the rattling of another door.

"Woman! What's with all the racket!" a still thunderous voice, boomed through the house, though it turned to coughing a moment later. The boy looked at the startled adults with a bit of a mischievousness grin.

"Uh oh!" he warned them, quickly escaping to the outside.

"It's nothing, Grandad! Go back to bed!" the woman hollered.

"Like hell I will! How about you stop ordering me around and answer my damn question, before I come smack you upside your silly head!"

The woman rolled her eyes and glared at the two foreigners before her. Izaya looked to Shizuo for confirmation, and received a decisive nod in reply. He'd know that voice anywhere, no matter how much it had aged. "Mr. Vincent Scott!" Izaya called, before the granddaughter could speak, again. "My friend and I have traveled many miles to speak with you! May we have a moment?"

There was a deafening silence, and both Shizuo and Izaya held their breath.

"Mary, show them in!" was their answer, as the door slammed shut. Mary, sighed heavily, and waved them inside.

"I apologize for my rudeness," she said, sounding really anything but sorry. "He can be quite a handful, sometimes, and taking care of him is no easy task!"

"Thank you for your hospitality," Shizuo offered, glad he had that line tucked away in his memory, at least.

"No, no, I was rude. I didn't think you were both telling the truth, though I have no idea who this Vincent Scott person is," she said, as she led them to the bedroom door. "He's in here. You two go on, and I'll fetch you all something to drink. What would you like? Tea? Green tea?" she guessed.

"Coffee, will be fine," Izaya smiled, with a bit of a wince. "And my friend would appreciate a lot of sugar and cream in his."

"Alright then," she nodded with a smile, grateful that they asked for something she was comfortable with making. With a nod, she opened the door and showed them in. It was a bright and sunny room, with cream colored walls adorned with pictures, and shelves full of old knickknacks from across the globe. A fan spun slowly over the old, antique double bed, upon which sat an elderly man, dressed in suspenders and a long sleeved, button up shirt. He wore a tweed cap, and squinted to look at them, inhaling deeply from the tube affixed to his nose from a nearby oxygen concentrator. His hair was thick, but now a silvery grey, and although his skin was wrinkled, and his form somewhat diminished, there was no mistaking that this was the same boisterous and headstrong American, who had been in Cairo all those years ago. Shoving a small laptop and stand to the side, he reached for his spectacles.

"Give me just a damn minute," he muttered. "Eyes aren't what they used to be."

"Please, take your time!" Izaya quickly said, suddenly jumping behind Shizuo, as if for protection. "In fact, maybe it's best you don't put on your glasses at all."

"Now what kind of nonsense is that?" Vinnie, or rather Vincent asked, genuine amusement shining through his tired eyes. "I'm curious to get a look at the chaps who know me by my old name! And you sound like young fellows, too!" he laughed, before it turned into a fit of coughing. After he'd regained his breath once again, Vincent placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose and looked at them. He blinked at Shizuo's appearance, a bit surprised, before bursting out laughing. Shizuo grinned, nervously, not really knowing what to say. "Well, I'll be damned! You're Japanese, aren't you? But you know? You look a lot like I did when I was young! Ha! I'll be damned! What brings you and your little friend, who's hiding behind you like I'm gonna hit him or somethin', to my door? What's that you're carrying, lad? Is that a...?"

"It's a violin..." Izaya confirmed, still unwilling to show himself from behind Shizuo.

"Just tell him," Shizuo whispered. Izaya swallowed the lump in his throat.

"My name is Izaya Orihara, and this is Shizuo Heiwajima. You'll have to forgive us for showing up without any warning, Mr. Scott, but it's kind of important. It's about when you were in Cairo, and also...it's about this violin. I think...I think you might remember it?"

Vincent's face became very grave, and he inhaled, deeply. "Indeed..." he said, now studying the case. "I remember it well... Why have you brought it all the way here?"

"Well, the thing is, and this is going to sound completely insane-"

"I already think you're insane!" Vincent interjected, with a stomp of his foot. "Would you stop hiding behind...what's your face...Shizuo like some damn coward, and talk to me face to face!"

"I don't want to upset you," Izaya said, carefully.

"Boy, you're upsetting me, now!"

"Go on," Shizuo urged.

"He's going to try and hit me!" Izaya whispered back. "...or worse!"

"Let's just get this over with," Shizuo encouraged. With a deep breath, he stepped out from behind his protector, and raised his head high. Vincent went white as a sheet, and he rose from his seat on the bed.

"It can't be..." he whispered, taking a hesistant step forward. "You look... You look like..."

"Cousins," Shizuo explained.

"Twice removed," Izaya added. "But Mr. Scott, that's not why we're here."

Vincent sunk slowly back into his bed, looking as if he were about to keel over and die at any moment. At that time, Mary opened the door with a tray full of cups, almost dropping them when she saw her grandfather's face. "Grandad! Are you alright?"

"Leave us, Mary..." the old man's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Grandad, are these men upsetting you?" she challenged, setting down the tray on a nearby stand and looking as if she wanted to punch both of them in the nose.

"I said LEAVE!" Everyone startled, and Mary said nothing more. With a warning look, she quietly closed the door, leaving them alone, once more. "Now, young man," Vincent narrowed his eyes and Izaya's face grew pale. "Tell me what you came to say."

"It's about Zola," Vincent winced as if he'd been struck when he said the name. "About that day, when you were captured. Do you remembered what happened that day, Mr. Scott?"

"I've spent my whole life trying to forget," Vincent smiled, weakly, and they could both see tears gathering in his eyes. "But no, I have not forgotten. One doesn't forget something like that, no matter how many memories we try to replace it with."

"What happened?" Shizuo asked, suddenly curious to hear Vincent's side to the end of the story. Vincent took a deep breath, blinking back the tears in his eyes.

"Well, I had a friend. A very special friend, or so I thought," the last part came out in a voice so small, they both had to strain to hear. "But he's was on the wrong side, and his work killed a lot of my friends, and... He just couldn't stop. He couldn't leave it, so he chose to leave me, instead!" his voice started to rise in anger. "I knew it was foolishness! I knew it, but I was young, and stupid, and I wanted so badly for it to be true! Charlie was right! That selfish little flea didn't even know what it meant to love! He cast me aside so easily! I was their prisoner, and he said...well dammit! I'm not gonna say what he said, but it was pretty, fucking awful! And then he just disappeared! And I never saw him again! I woke up in some god-forsaken, British field hospital, completely chewed up from all the bombs, and then I packed up everything I owned and came back here! And I lived my damn life! A good one! Without him!" he rose from his seat once more, and pointed an accusing finger at Izaya as if he were yelling at the man he spoke of, himself. "I didn't need him! Just like he didn't need me!"

"But that is not really true..." Shizuo said, quietly. He was already picking up on the long buried vibes of despair and loneliness. "And he did not betray you."

"And what the hell would you know about it!" Vincent refocused his rage on him now, making Shizuo blanch a bit.

"Because...I saw what happened," he confessed. Vincent regarded him, warily, as he sat back down.

"I need a damn cup of coffee..." he muttered. Shizuo quickly fetched him one from the tray, and the old man brought the cup shakily to his lips before setting it aside, next to his computer.

"I know it's hard to believe," Izaya started again, since he was the better English speaker, "But Shizuo's not lying. He's a medium, of sorts. He can see things that happened in the past, visions, if you will. And with this violin, he was able to see what happened that day." For emphasis, Izaya removed the old instrument from its case. Vincent's eyes lit up with recognition, and he stared at it the entire time Izaya retold the story. "Surely, the Nazis would have invaded Cairo if not for your friend," Izaya explained. "He may have gone there with the intent of being a spy at first, but he changed. You changed him."

"If that's true, then why did he leave me?" Vincent asked, sadly, looking down at his hands.

"He didn't want you to be wrapped up in the aftermath of his war crimes," Izaya tried to explain.

"I wouldn't have cared!" Vincent declared, fiercely. Shizuo and Izaya both smiled at each other.

"I think he knew that...and that's why he tried to leave the way he did," Izaya said, softly.

Vincent kept his gaze cast downward for a long time, before finally raising his head, again. "So, saying your story is true," he began, "Why'd you come all the way here just to tell me that?"

"Because, you've got to forgive him," Izaya told him.

"Like hell, I do!"

"Please!" Shizuo persisted. "The violin, there is a curse!"

"A what?" Vincent arched his eyebrow.

Izaya breathed deeply. "Whoever gains ownership of Zola's violin ends up dying a tragic death."

Vincent burst out laughing, much to their surprise. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard!" he roared, before coughing again. "And you two have wasted quite enough of my time! Thanks for the nice story. It'd be just dandy if it were true, eh?"

"How else could you explain us knowing all we do?" Izaya asked, a little angrily.

"I dunno...the internet?"

"I can assure you, the internet proved to be very useless in this endeavor!" Izaya yelled.

"Well, damn, boy, I don't know! But I don't believe it! Not for a second!"

"Come on, Vin-vin!" Izaya huffed, completely exasperated, "Why would we lie about something like this, really?"

"...What did you just call me?"

"Yeah, what did you just call him?" Shizuo reiterated in Japanese, a little irritated. He didn't like Izaya using pet names with other people. Izaya startled, not even realizing he'd let the nick name slip. Then, the obvious thing to do finally struck him.

"If you don't believe us now," he said, taking out the bow and tightening the bow strings, "Perhaps this will change your mind." Vincent coughed and looked curiously at the informant, as he nestled the instrument under his chin. Shizuo just smiled as the familiar notes began to fill the room. Izaya had told him what the song was on the way over. It was from Chopin, a Nocturne for the piano and violin, but of course, Zola had only ever played the violin portion. He told him it was one of the many songs Chopin wrote, because he longed for the home he'd left behind. It seemed fitting, in a way, that it was only half the song, and Shizuo felt that in the end, Zola played it to try to reach out to the other half of his heart, just as Izaya was playing it now to reach out to Vincent. And reach him, he did. At the sound of their song from decades ago, tears began to stream down his weathered cheeks, and his head hung lower and lower, until his hat slipped and fell to the ground. Shizuo could feel him rediscovering his overwhelming fondness for the original player, and all the feelings he'd tried so hard to extinguish in his heart. Eventually, Izaya finished the song, and slowly lowered the violin back down. The room was gravely silent, except for the quiet sobs that escaped the old and frail man's lips, even as he strove to hide them by covering his face with his gnarled hands.

"Zola..." he cried softly into his palms. "I forgive you... I forgive you!"

All at once, the windows and door flew open, and the sunlight flashed, momentarily blinding. The sound of the violin once again filled everyone's ears, and as soon as he could see again, Shizuo turned to Izaya, expecting that the informant was the one playing again. To his surprise, and the shock of everyone there, he was merely staring at the violin in his hands as an unseen source continued to fill the room with music. It wasn't the same song. It sounded...happy! The three men looked around the light flooded room in complete astonishment, as the playing only grew more sonorous and joyous. The walls trembled at the vibrant sound, and Mary came rushing into the room in a panic, with little Matthew following closely behind.

"What on earth is going on, here?" she tried to speak over the sound filling the room, but received no answer. As the notes reached a crescendo, the sound became almost deafening, and the light seemed to reflect the song's gusto, as it danced wildly across the room, ending in another bright flash.

"Mom, look!" the child had regained his sight first, and pointed toward one of the open windows.

"Oh, my god!" the woman immediately shielded the child and backed away from the figure that now stood before all of them. Vincent shakily rose to his feet and took a hesitant step forward, and Shizuo looked down at Izaya, who was practically beaming, before turning back to take in the beautiful sight. It was Zola, but not the Zola they had summoned before. All of the anger and bitterness had washed away, leaving him as Vincent remembered. Gone was the oppressive clothing of the Regime, and he wore a flowing, white desert robe in their stead, slowly pulling the equally white scarf away from his face. His deep blue eyes shined brightly, and even his white and now unmarred skin seemed to radiate a soft glow.

"That song was for you," he winked, smiling warmly. Vincent could all but stagger one foot in front of the other toward the perfect vision, dragging his oxygen machine along, behind him.

"Zola," he whispered, almost breathless, before standing up straight and grinning. "Heh! Stupid sand flea!" he laughed, tears rolling down his face. "That's not our song!"

"It's our new song," Zola affirmed, as he stretched out his hand. "Vin-vin, will you come with me, this time?" he asked, his face alight with a radiant smile. Vincent shook his head and cocked it to the side.

"As if you have to ask!" he half laughed, half cried, before taking his hand. As soon as their fingers touched, Vincent's face grew youthful once more, and all the grey faded away leaving the familiar blonde. He pulled Zola forward, and hugged him tightly. "All this time..." he cried, burying his face into the nape of his neck, "All this time, I didn't know!"

Zola smiled and pressed his lips against his ear. "Thank you for forgiving me," he whispered. "Let's go, now, together."

"Forever!" Vincent affirmed, hugging him even more tightly.

Over the blonde man's shoulder, Zola locked eyes with Izaya and Shizuo. "Thank you..." he mouthed, before separating from Vincent long enough to grip hands with him, as the light began to envelope both of their bodies. "Oh, and by the way," he smirked at them from the corner of his eye, just as they were about to fade away, "there never was any curse on that violin."

"Wait, WHAT?" Izaya cried, and then they were gone.


	7. Epilogue

**Hi. Wow, sorry this is so late. I've been working a lot these past two weeks. I'm actually leaving to go overseas pretty soon, and probably will disappear for a while. ^^ So, if anyone reads this a month from now and reviews, and I don't respond, that's why. Thanks to everyone who did read and review! It really meant a lot to me! Wish you all the best! Oh, VioletIsInPain, there is a shout out to your review. I just loved the phrasing of "trolled beyond the grave" so I had to put it in there. Thanks again, everyone.**

* * *

><p>"Shizu-chan, Your face is going to get stuck that way."<p>

"Huh? Oh..." Shizuo had been staring down at the water, slowly lapping at his bare feet, for the past ten minutes without saying a word. Fall was on its way, but the ocean breeze was still warm enough that it wasn't too cold to be shoeless on the beach. Their flight back to Tokyo didn't leave until early the next morning, so Izaya had immediately opted to take a taxi out to Venice Beach for the evening, and had proceeded to drag Shizuo all up and down the Boardwalk, terribly curious to see what the local people were peddling. He steered clear of the fortune tellers, though. The sun had slowly begun to set as their walk took them to the beach, whereupon Izaya had kicked off his shoes and proceeded to splash about in the water. Shizuo was content to sit in the sand and let the water gently sweep over his toes.

It had not been easy trying to explain to Vincent's granddaughter, Mary, why exactly her invalid grandfather had suddenly vanished from his room. The woman had been completely hysterical, and Shizuo was pretty sure most of Izaya's words were falling on deaf ears. She seemed to think he'd escaped out the window, and Shizuo and Izaya quietly sneaked out the front door as she quite loudly filed a missing person's report to the local police over the phone. Shizuo felt a little sorry for the shock the lady had been through, but in all, he was glad that they were able to help give the tragic story a happy ending of sorts. It made him smile to know that Vincent and Zola would be always be together, without any fear of their war affiliations or past transgressions. Izaya, however, had felt quite differently, and as he drove them back to the airport, he made it quite clear.

"I can't believe we came all this way for nothing!" he vented, as he swerved the vehicle in and out of traffic.

"That was a yield sign..." Shizuo pointed out.

"I yield for no one!" he cried, vehemently. "How could the freaking violin not have a freaking curse? I know the previous owners all died untimely deaths!"

"Coincidence, I guess? Maybe they were driving like you."

"Oh, ha ha!"

"Aren't you at least glad we helped two people find everlasting happiness?" The look Izaya threw him was a mixture of both surprise and disgust. Shizuo just sighed and shook his head. "Never mind... But what did you expect? After all, this is your relative we're talking about! When I told him about the curse, of course he was going to go right along with it! We got trolled."

"We got trolled," Izaya conceded, irritably. "From beyond the grave, no less."

"Doesn't that kind of make it okay, though? I mean, it wasn't like you got trolled by any, old regular human. You got trolled by a powerful, Nazi ghost!"

Izaya sniffed, as he mulled this over in his head. "Your words have placated me," he finally announced. "And I suppose it's nice that in retrospect, for once I wasn't in danger of emanant death at any point in this entire venture."

"Well, except for when we first summoned Zola and he was about to run you through with his sword thingy..."

Izaya's eyes narrowed, and he scowled at him. "Shut up, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo just tried to hide his smirk on the way back to the hotel. Almost as soon as they entered the room, Izaya had flopped on the bed and immediately passed out, with Shizuo following closely behind in the arm chair.

They'd caught the flight to Los Angeles the next morning, and Shizuo found himself deep in thought the majority of the day, until now, as he sat on the beach. He'd watched Izaya stomp about in the surf for a while, and couldn't stop that same, recurring predicament from swirling around in his mind. Izaya... He could be cold and calculating, definitely fell in the category of strange, and his career choice was questionable, at best. But Shizuo seemed to be privy to a side of the informant no one knew; the caring side, the kind side, the side that tried to comfort him every time he was down and worried for him every time he was in danger. The side that would take a bullet for him. And damn! He'd been awfully cute as a little black fox, but now, as he stood in front of Shizuo, staring down at him with his mischievous smile, the setting sun turning the horizon deep hues of purple, pink, and orange from behind, the blonde man couldn't help but feel that, stunning, was more the word for him, now. He felt the same familiar feelings, and no longer felt confused as to what they were. He'd felt enough feelings from Vincent to know that the disquiet plaguing his mind and heart day after day was really love, and not the kind friends shared. He was quickly losing his fear of intimacy as the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch eclipsed it.

"So, what's on your mind?" Izaya pressed, as he stepped into the sand and rolled his pants legs down. Shizuo stood up and did likewise.

"Just thinking... About everything."

"Quite a lot to think about!" Izaya grinned, standing up straight and dusting himself off.

"Well, a lot's happened!" Shizuo defended. "I mean, this past year, it has."

"Indeed!" Izaya affirmed. "Let's see, people getting turned into animals, stopping a serial killer, evil demons stealing body parts, and then we wrapped it all up by reuniting two starcrossed lovers, one of which happened to already be dead. I'd say we've been quite busy!"

Shizuo just chuckled and ruffled Izaya's now ocean sprayed hair, as they began to walk back towards a main road. "You can say that again. I'm about ready for a break!"

"Not sure Tom-san will give you any more time off, Shizu-chan," Izaya smirked. "I seem to have a knack for getting you out of work."

"To do more work."

"Too true. Now, how about you tell me what you were really thinking about."

Shizuo blinked. _Damn._ His mind reeled, trying to think of an appropriate transition into what he really wanted to say. Izaya seemed content to be patient, and wait for him to perform all the necessary mental acrobatics. "Well, honestly, I guess I was thinking about how much Vincent and Zola liked eachother."

"How creepy it was?"

"No! I mean, no. I thought it was kind of nice, that they both knew what they wanted."

"You sound a little envious!" Izaya pointed out with a smile. "So, you were thinking how nice it was that there were such a pair of love birds? Quite the romantic, Shizu-chan!"

"I was thinking about other stuff, too!" Shizuo quickly added. Why did he feel like he was floundering? Izaya's rust colored eyes boring holes into him was certainly not helping. Dammit! Hadn't he had the upper hand most of the month? When did that change? How could he get it back? "I guess, I was thinking that I understand why Vincent liked Zola so much."

"And why would that be?"

"Well, he liked him because...because..." and then it clicked. Shizuo smiled, showing all of his white teeth, as he looked directly at Izaya, who quickly turned away from the direct gaze. "Because Zola was beautiful, intelligent, mysterious, dangerous, and anybody would find someone like that fascinating. And he only ever showed his real self to Vincent. It was like a secret the two shared. Everyone else probably knew Zola to be a selfish and cold person, but Vincent knew better."

"You think so?" Izaya challenged, still not looking up, but Shizuo could see his cheeks dusting red at the turn the conversation was taking.

"Of course I do. There's just one thing I don't understand."

"What's that?"

Shizuo shrugged and lit a cigarette. "I don't get what Zola saw in a guy like Vincent," he chuckled. Izaya didn't answer, and Shizuo was fine with that. It was an unspoken challenge, in a way, and the blonde man couldn't blame him for not acting upon it. These types of things couldn't be rushed, after all, and the scenery surrounding them made it difficult to feel anxious. The sun finished setting, leaving a bright sky full of stars in its wake. It was a weekday, and the crowds had died down, the beach line practically empty. The only sounds that could be heard were those of distant traffic and the waves gently rolling on the shore. Shizuo looked up as he walked, taking in the expansive, night sky and inhaling deeply. He really needed to go to the beach more often. It was definitely one of his favorites places to be. He could already feel the salty breeze relaxing him, all his worries fading away. So lost was he in his beach reverie, that he hadn't even noticed when Izaya stopped walking. Shizuo turned, and looked at him quizzically, twisting out the cigarette in his hand. The informant stood with his head bowed, his fists clenched, tightly. "Flea?" he questioned, a bit concerned. This new, quieter Izaya that had been popping up a lot in the past month was a little hard to read. "You alright?"

"I know what...," his voice was so quiet, Shizuo could barely hear it.

"What?" It'd been so long since they had spoken, Shizuo wasn't sure what he was referring to.

"I know what Zola saw in Vincent." Shizuo's honey colored eyes widened, and he swallowed the sudden lump of anticipation in his throat. His heart began to race in his chest, almost fearfully, as he waited for what Izaya would say next. "At first, he saw someone he could use, because that's what he did. He'd used people his entire life," he looked off to the side, remorsefully, shoving his hands deep within the pockets of his jacket. "But little by little, he found that he couldn't. He couldn't treat Vincent the same way he'd treated the rest of humanity, because..."

"Because what?" Shizuo murmured, taking a hesitant step back towards where Izaya stood.

"Because Vincent helped him rediscover his," Izaya smiled, as he lifted his gaze, the moonlight casting a warm glow around the tips of his dark hair. His eyes caught all of the lights of the night sky, and they shone, fiercely. It was all Shizuo could do to just breathe, because he found the sight before him truly breathtaking. "And that is something worth dying for."

"You really think so?" Shizuo asked, smiling brilliantly from ear to ear. Izaya mirrored his elated grin, but a familiar slyness was creeping into the corners of it as Shizuo stepped closer.

"You know I'm never wrong, Shizu-chan!" Izaya smirked, hunching his shoulders for a moment, before rolling them out.

"Tch!" Shizuo snorted, but he was still smiling. "You're such a flea!...But I might have to hug you now."

"Ugh, if you must," Izaya sighed, over dramatically, as Shizuo gently folded his strong arms around the smaller man. He could immediately feel Izaya meld against his body, burying his face into his shoulder, and this only made him want to squeeze all the harder as he let his head fall to rest on one of the informant's shoulders. Izaya let out a contented sigh. "You want to know what else, Shizu-chan?" he murmured, his voice muffled against Shizuo's shirt. "Vincent wasn't that bad on the eyes, either."

A low chuckle bubbled up from deep within Shizuo's chest. "Izaya..." he half whispered, gently pushing away so that Izaya could face him again. "I love you. I have for a while, now."

"Good," Izaya affirmed, reaching his hand up to wrap around Shizuo's neck and pull him downward. "Because I think I loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I just didn't realize it-," was all he got out before pressing his lips against the stunned, but completely elated, taller man. Shizuo felt as if his body were on fire and melting to the spot, as if he'd never be able to walk again. It was everything he'd both hoped and feared it would be, and the kiss sent such a shock through his body, he was forced to take a step back. At the loss of contact, Izaya glanced up at him, quizzically, before they both grinned like mad men, and the informant let out a short bark of a laugh, as if he couldn't even believe what he'd just done. Shizuo could barely believe it either, but he wasted no time in returning the gesture, tenfold. Perhaps what he found most unbelievable of all, was the feeling of earnest and fiercely protective love that spread throughout his body, making his heart swell every time he touched Izaya's soft lips with his own. It was something Shizuo would never grow tired of feeling, and he hoped with all of his might that Izaya could feel him returning every ounce of it within his kiss. Izaya let out a contented hum as they parted, once more. He gazed up at Shizuo with lazy, half lidded eyes, and smiled, completely intoxicated. Shizuo hugged him close to his side as they began walking once more, and Izaya let out a loud yawn. "Mush, Shizu-chan!" he commanded, sleepily. "To the hotel!"

"Yup, you're still a flea," Shizuo sighed, shaking his head at the old joke.

"Ah, but I'm your flea, and you're my neanderthal."

"...Yeah..." Shizuo grinned, stupidly, blushing a bit. Izaya saw the look on his face, and smirked.

"So! Shoulder ride?"

Shizuo threw back his head and laughed, but in a few seconds, stopped abruptly. "No," he said, flatly. "...But you may be able to talk me into one of those old, shampoo jobs," he added, as an afterthought. Izaya just chuckled and leaned into him more as they walked. Shizuo couldn't remember every being happier, as he lay in the double bed at the hotel within the airport, lazily flipping channels later that night. He wasn't even paying attention to the scenes that flashed by. There were two beds in the room, but Izaya had fallen asleep curled up against his side. Shizuo looked down every now and then at the quietly sleeping informant, quite buried beneath the plush covers, and smiled, before finally turning the T.V. off and gently pulling the slumbering man into his arms. Izaya stirred, and muttered something about Russia Sushi. Shizuo just rolled his eyes, as he rested his chin on top the dark and soft head of hair beneath it, still smiling. Foxy, flea, informant, Izaya...he had many ways to think of the man whose heart he could feel gently beating against his skin, but a new title had now surfaced in his mind, and it encompassed all the others; _his_.

* * *

><p><strong><em>A few months later...<em>  
><strong>

"One can never tell what will impress the other kids at school," Izaya smiled his terrible smile, white teeth gleaming against the city lights. He stood, almost cockily, before a teenage girl, who had been crying atop the roof of an abandoned, industrial building in Ikebukuro. "You could dye your hair, and it very well might carry the same weight as jumping off a roof top," he shrugged with a chuckle. "People are wonderfully cruel like that. Fact that you're here tells me your parents don't think much of your social problems, either. No one probably thinks about it, except you, and I know what you're thinking."

"W-what?" the girl sniffed, wiping her eyes, and stepping further away from the edge. Izaya had been babbling a good five minutes, and in her state of confusion, she was beginning to be distracted from her original intention.

"You're thinking that absolutely nothing will ever get better."

"What if it doesn't?" she asked, hesitantly, her voice quivering both from the cold and from fear. She had no idea where this strange man had suddenly appeared from.

"Normally, I can't see the future, I leave that to one of my other good friends, but let me ask you this. How is it that you made up your mind it won't?"

"I'm just tired!" she started crying again. "I'm tired of feeling this way and I want it to stop!"

"Mm-hm..." Izaya nodded in understanding, though it did little to lessen his evil grin. "Yes, god knows no one else on the planet has ever faced such social awkwardness as you. Better jump now, I think they're talking about you in the chat rooms, already!"

"How would you know how bad it is?" she demanded, hotly. "How do you know anything about me?"

"Because I happen to be one of the people leaving com- ACK!" Izaya was abruptly cut off from his grand revelation, and now hung with his feet thrashing wildly in mid air. The girl could only stare in complete shock as yet another, taller and blonde man had appeared, immediately plucking him off the ground. It didn't matter how much the other one kicked and thrashed, the blonde man just heaved a heavy sigh, tucking his sunglasses, which for some reason he was wearing at night, into his front pocket. "Put me down, neanderthal! You're ruining all my fun!"

"Shut up, flea! Look, girl, I don't know what this guy told you, but I'm telling you now to not believe a word of it. You don't have to do whatever he's putting you up to."

"What are you accusing me of, Shizu-chan?"

"I told you to be quiet!" Shizuo yelled, giving him a firm shake. "You were trying to get this poor girl to jump off this building!"

"_Gasp!_ I most certainly was not! Miyu-chan! Was I in any way inducing you to leap to your certain death?"

"...What?..." the girl drawled, in an especially confused way.

"See?" Izaya chirped. "Now put me down! How did you even know I was here?"

"Celty told me."

Izaya rolled his eyes. "Heh! Tattletail!"

"Haven't I told you about a thousand times to stop trolling poor highschoolers?"

"Really, Shizu-chan!" Izaya smirked, still trying to wriggle free, "Such an exaggeration! It was much closer to five hundred! And we've already established that I was _clearly _not doing that! I've done absolutely no wrong, so if you please-"

"Oh, I don't think so," Shizuo grinned, maniacally, giving him another shake. "You were supposed to cook and do the dishes tonight! Your turn, remember?"

"Ah, Namie-chan can do that!"

"I sent her home! She's not your slave!"

"You're just scared of her! And since you were so dead set against my brilliant idea to just order sushi-"

"We can't eat tuna every other, frickin' night!"

"Says you! It's healthy!"

"Maybe I should just throw you off the building!"

"You both are WEIRD!" the girl cried, interrupting their tirade and stomping her foot. She quickly rushed past them. "I'm going home!" she announced, before disappearing down the stairwell. Shizuo and Izaya both blinked at eachother for a moment, before Shizuo put him down.

"Humph!" he snorted, dusting himself off. "Way to go, Shizu-chan."

"I'm sorry. Did I damage your street cred?"

"I'm sure the web will be atwitter for a day or two."

"Well, you'll enjoy that. You like being the center of attention."

"Not when the spotlight's unflattering!" Izaya smiled, but there was something sinister about it. "Don't worry. I'll find ways for you to make it up to me."

Shizuo just shook his head and started walking. Two seconds later, Izaya had lept onto his back, circling his arms around the blonde man's neck. "Oh, what the hell, Izaya!" Shizuo groaned, as he stumbled forward.

"Step one in making it up to me is carrying me home!"

"How is me carrying you halfway across the city on my back not going to damage your reputation more?"

"Ah, there's hardly anyone out, now, Shizu-chan!" As if to make him eat his words, they both saw a shadow curl in front of them, before retreating to the stairway door. Celty was leaning, casually, against the frame, watching them. "Anyone human!" he quickly amended. Shizuo couldn't help but blush in the ridiculous position she'd caught them in, but Izaya seemed quite at home. That is, until Celty quickly typed something on her screen and held it out to them.

"You are both so cute! Izaya, you look like a baby koala!"

That was enough to eject the informant from his perch with a disgruntled frown. Shizuo just laughed, and wrapped his arm around him good naturedly, drawing him close. "Ah, don't get all bent out of shape!" he chuckled. Izaya tried, feebly, to fend off the hug.

"You both are terribly cruel to me! What is this? Emasculate Izaya Orihara Day?"

Celty's shoulders shook with silent laughter, as she held out her screen to him. "Sorry! You and Shizuo, the way your are now, it's just too funny!"

"You know what's not funny, Celty-san? Tattletailing on me to my boyfriend!" Izaya informed her with an extremely sinister smile. It sent a little shiver down Celty's spine, as she took a step back. Shizuo, quite tickled with the title Izaya had used, saw the look on his face and grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting his feet off the ground.

"You're even cuter when you act all evil and stuff!" he gushed, burying his face in the back of the informant's fur trimmed jacket. Izaya let out a squeak that was most indignant, and Celty started laughing again.

"Shizu-chan, I swear to god, I will cut your throat in your sleep!" he warned, but there was little ill intent behind his words, as he had begun to arch away and giggle when Shizuo began nuzzling under his ear with his nose. "Gaw- you know that tickles! Stop it!" he half wined, half laughed. Celty just shook her head and proceeded to cover where her eyes would be on her helmet when Izaya leaned his head back and let Shizuo gently kiss him for a moment. "Hmmm...Maybe I won't kill you tonight, after all... At least not literally," he smirked, after Shizuo had put him back on his feet. That last comment made Shizuo's face light up like a Christmas tree, of course, and Celty was forced to thrust her handheld in front of them, again.

"Would you two get a room!" she demanded. Izaya and Shizuo both laughed as they walked past her.

"Celty-san doesn't appreciate our smoochies and such, Shizu-chan," the informant tsked with a shrug.

"I appreciate our smoochies and such..." Shizuo yawned, lazily, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked back over his shoulder. "Hey, Celty, you got errands to run, tonight?"

The black rider gave a nod, summoning her bike from around the corner of the entryway. It gave a loud neigh, as it screeched to a halt at her side. She held her screen out to Shizuo. "Yes. I'll catch you both, later. Shinra's really excited about going out to dinner, tomorrow night. Hope you two can-"

Shizuo didn't have a chance to read the rest, before a blood curdling scream resounded in all of their ears. "What the fuck?" Shizuo yelled, extremely startled. Izaya looked like he'd just stuck his finger in a socket, every hair on his body standing on end. Even Celty shrank a bit at the awful sound. "That sounded kind of close!"

"Quick, Shizu-chan!" Izaya called, already racing down the stairs to see what he could find.

"What are you do-? Argh!" Shizuo groaned, completely exasperated, as he ran after him. Celty took the side of the building down with her motorcycle and reached the road first, with Shizuo and Izaya emerging through the side exit a moment later.

"This way," Izaya commanded, taking off once more, in the direction of a small alley way. The three of them rounded the corner and came to a screeching halt. A large, looming and shadowy figure rose from a crouching position on the ground, staring at them with flashing, round eyes that almost seemed to be positioned in the chest area. Its form vaguely resembled a broad human, with no head, and catching sight of them, began to emit a high pitched wailing sound that almost sounded like a woman screaming. it unfolded a pair of large, moth like wings, and flew off into the night before anyone could get a better look. The girl who'd been on the roof top, Miyu, lay huddled on the ground, and Celty immediately rushed forward to check on her. Izaya and Shizuo quickly followed.

"What the hell...?" Shizuo wondered. "What was that thing? Is she okay?"

Celty looked over her shoulder and nodded. The girl's eyes fluttered open a moment later, and the black rider helped her to her feet. They all blanched a bit when they saw her eyes had turned pitch black. Celty held her screen out to her face. "What happened? Did that thing hurt you?"

The girl stared vacantly without blinking. "S-something bad is going to happen..." she said, quietly.

"What's going to happen?" Izaya asked. "Did it tell you something?"

"It said..." Her voice trailed off as she looked at a floodlight over their heads. "Pretty... I wanna touch it..." she murmured, reaching for the light with her hands. Her skin was quickly turning an odd, brown color, as tiny antennae emerged from her forehead.

"Is she... Is she turning into a bug? Oh, for crying out loud!" Shizuo cried, lighting a cigarette. The flame from his lighter immediately caught the girl's attention, as she stumbled up to him, making feeble grabs at the item still in his hands.

"Can I have that? I would like to have that light!" Her voice was eager in a creepy way. Shizuo frowned, slapping her hands away.

"No! Fuck off!" he growled. He only grew more exasperated when Miyu didn't take the hint. "Why is weird shit always happening around us?"

Izaya laughed loudly at the sight before turning to read the message Celty had waiting for him on her screen. "You don't think it could be aliens, do you?"

"Who can say?" Izaya shrugged. "We certainly can't rule aliens out as a possibility." This made Celty practically quake in fear, and she drew her hands to her chest, glancing about frantically as if an alien would spring at her any moment.

"I'm sure it's not aliens, Celty," Shizuo tried to comfort her, dragging the still babbling girl, who'd attached herself to his leg, with him over to where Celty and Izaya stood. Miyu had now started emitting strange, humming sounds in lieu of talking, and he sighed. "Okay, we need to get bug girl, here, to a hospital. Can you help us take her, Celty?" Celty nodded, albeit hesitantly, and formed two helmets for them with her shadows. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone..."

"Ah, Shizu-chan! Whatever it was, it's quite gone for now."

"Well, just head straight home. I'll be back, soon."

"Good! I hope to already have some answers for you as to the identity of our strange, moth man," Izaya sounded completely enthused. Shizuo felt himself deflate at the look on the informant's face.

"Wait...is this gonna be another..."

"Adventure?" Izaya chirped, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together, eagerly.

"Not quite the way I would put it..." Shizuo sighed, trying to force Miyu's helmet over her new set of antenae.

"Indeed it is, Shizu-chan! And if this moth man is who I think it is, we'll have some great tragedy to prevent in the near future!"

"Why me?" the blonde man moaned.

"Never a dull moment when you're with the great Izaya Orihara, Shizu-chan!" Izaya smirked, standing on his toes and giving Shizuo a quick peck on the lips before he put his own helmet on.

"...But I had _plans_. You know, you were going to not kill me and stuff, tonight," Shizuo's disappointed voice was muffled through the cover. Izaya gave him a sympathetic smile, patting him on the shoulder.

"Later. Now you be a good neanderthal and see to Miyu-chan. Ta-ta! Don't get turned into a bug!" He gave the blonde man a wave, before running off into the night, back towards their home. Shizuo could help but smile as he watched him leave. He was quickly brought back to the present situation, as Miyu had managed to grab his light from his pocket and was buzzing with anticipation. Shizuo snatched it back and lifted her on to Celty's bike, before positioning himself behind her. Celty revved the engine, and slowly started the bike forward, keeping at low speeds since she now had two passengers. Shizuo was already dreading how the next month wout go. Mothmen with glowing red eyes that could turn other people into bugs? Freakin' fantastic! But even so, his lips still felt warm and tingly where Izaya had just touched them, and he couldn't help but smile. It didn't matter what freaky, supernatural bull shit the world threw at them, they'd get through it, together.

The End


End file.
